


Perennial

by glymr



Category: DCU - Comicverse, Teen Titans (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-03
Updated: 2015-10-01
Packaged: 2017-12-15 07:37:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 93,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/846985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glymr/pseuds/glymr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When he was nine years old, young Timothy Drake's family decided to move to a small town in Kansas...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Year One: "Taking Root", Winter

**Author's Note:**

> Word Count this chapter: 6508 words  
> Rating: PG this chapter (NC-17 overall)  
> Special thanks to iesika, without whom this would not have been written, and who acted as beta reader, cheerleader, and midwife for every bit of it. Thanks also to the_protagonist, snake_easing, and my friend Rachel, who gave me much encouragement, and shinigrace and and Colours07, who made wonderful art for this chapter.

 

Tim put on his headphones and slung his bag over his shoulder. It had been a cold and dry winter, and little puffs of dust lifted with each step he took, but Tim was used to it. After all, he walked this half-mile stretch of road all the time.

The air had a crisp smell as he passed the fields of stubble. Tim walked in time with the music in his ears. Life was good. His parents were away on another trip, which meant that he would be able to spend a night or two at the farm and help Ma and Pa during the day. He'd picked up a few things yesterday, a gallon of milk and some fresh vegetables from a roadside stand, so he wouldn't be coming empty-handed.

The walk went quickly, and before long he was knocking at the bent old screen door. "Ma?" he called. A delicious smell wafted out. Tim took an appreciative breath - fried chicken and biscuits. He knocked again, and when no one came to the door, he stepped inside and put his burden on the table. "Ma?" he called again. "I brought a few things." He heard a voice and stuck his head through the swinging door between the kitchen and the parlor. Ma was on the phone in the other room, twisting the cord around her fingers. Tim smiled at her and shook his head, then got the portable phone he'd given them for Christmas from its handset in the kitchen and handed it to her. She smiled back absently, took the portable, and hung up the corded phone.

"So, what are you saying, Clark?" she said.

Tim went back out to the kitchen and put away the milk, then went outside to give her some privacy.

Pa was in the barn, working on the tractor. The old thing was on its last legs, but between the two of them, somehow Tim and Pa kept it running. Tim rolled up his sleeves and picked up a wrench. Pa just nodded a silent 'hello' to him, and Tim nodded back. He never wore his headphones around Ma and Pa. Headphones were for shutting things out.

The work went quickly, and before long Pa had the motor firing up again with a roar. They grinned at each other and Tim wiped some of the grease off his hands with an old rag. "Think she'll last another year, Pa?"

"Considerin' the fact that we've replaced just about every piece of her, she'd better," said Pa, a twinkle in his eye. Tim nodded and went inside to wash his hands. He shivered a little as he stepped out of the barn, resisting the urge to roll down his sleeves with his dirty hands.

Ma wasn't on the phone anymore. She was bustling around the kitchen, a distracted look on her face, and Tim's heart sank. "Is Clark coming to visit?" he asked as he scrubbed soap into his hands.

She glanced at him and shook her head. "No, honey, it's not Clark. Conner's coming to stay."

"Oh." Tim rubbed his hands together harder under the water. It was bad enough when Clark came. Somehow it always seemed like all the chores Tim would normally help out with would already be done, leaving him nothing to do and no reason to be there. But at least Clark was _polite_. *Conner* was rude, and crude, and pretty much useless, as far as Tim could tell. He came and ate Ma's food and made tasteless jokes and talked too loud, and...Tim dried his thoroughly-washed hands on a clean towel.

It didn't really make a difference anyway. If either of them was coming to visit, they would be staying in Clark's old room, which meant that Tim wouldn't be sleeping over.

It was a little unusual for Ma to get advance warning of a visit, though. Usually Clark just sort of *showed up* out of nowhere, no call or anything as far as Tim could tell. Ma had explained that since he was a reporter, Clark's schedule was 'complicated', and he couldn't always let them know when he'd be there - though he did, at least *try* to call. Conner never seemed to give them even that courtesy, though. Just _appeared_ out of the blue and ate all of Ma's apple pie.

Ma was making a list at the table. "Bed sheets," she muttered to herself, "Clothes...what size does he wear, I wonder?"

Tim waited until she didn't seem to be in the middle of a thought. "Ma?" he asked. "When is he coming?"

"Hmm? Oh, tonight, hon. He'll be staying in Clark's room."

Damn. "How long will he be here?"

"How long?" She blinked at him, then focused on him. "Oh, he's going to be staying with us, Tim. I mean, he's going to live here."

Tim felt some of the color leaving his face. "*Live here*?" he said, appalled.

Ma smiled at him a little. "He needs a place to stay, dear. He'll be going to Smallville High and everything." She patted him on the arm. "I'll be depending on you to show him the ropes and introduce him to your friends."

Friends? Tim managed a small, sickly smile. "I'll try, ma'am."

"You'll be fine," she said gently, and went back to her list. Tim sighed and started up the stairs. One of the dresser drawers - the bottom one - was his, for when he stayed over. He'd better clean it out and get his toothbrush out of the bathroom.

For the first time, he was glad that there was only a week left until school started again. The rest of the break was going to _suck_.

* * *

It was evening when Conner arrived. Tim hadn't even heard the car drive up, though he'd been listening for it. Just the slam of the screen door and, "Hey, Aunt Martha. Hey, Uncle Jonathan."

He hadn't even knocked. But then, people don't have to knock when they come home, Tim reminded himself.

"Conner," said Martha warmly, getting up to hug him. "How lovely to see you."

He hugged her back. "It's nice to see you guys, too," he said, looking at the table. "Is that fried chicken?"

"It is," she said with a smile. "Did you have a chance to eat on the plane?"

"Plane?" he said blankly, then grinned and shrugged sheepishly. "Oh, yeah, um, no. I mean, airplane food is terrible, right?" He almost sounded like he was asking a question.

"Always has been in my experience, son," said Jonathan comfortably. "Why don't you set down and join us?"

"Thanks, Uncle Jonathan!"

"You remember Tim, right, Conner?" Tim looked up from his plate, wishing he hadn't let Ma talk him into staying for dinner. He'd offered to help her get ready, making up Clark's bed, sweeping out Clark's room. At least he'd found one of his socks under the bed. It was still in his pocket where he'd stuck it.

Conner stared at him blankly. "Sure. 'course I remember you," he said, and Tim knew he was lying. "So, Tim, how's it hangin'?"

Tim looked at him coolly. "Fine," he said.

Conner seemed to expect him to say something else, and when he didn't, Conner kind of shrugged and said, "Okaaay." He helped himself to several pieces of chicken and three biscuits.

"Have some Brussels sprouts," said Martha.

"Aw, Aunt Martha, do I have to?"

"Of course. Try some, Conner. Tim brought them for us." Tim felt Conner's eyes on him - surprised? accusing? - and stared down at his plate again.

When they were done, Tim took his plate to the sink and rinsed it off as Ma got the pie she'd baked that afternoon out of the oven. "Oh boy," said Conner, jumping up. "What kind is it?"

"Apple," said Ma. "Why don't you get the ice cream out of the freezer, Conner?" Tim picked up Conner's plate and took it to the sink, then got out some dessert plates and coffee cups. Pa started a pot of decaf.

"Oh boy," said Conner again as Ma started slicing into the pie, and she smiled and gave him a large piece. "Thanks, Aunt Martha!"

"You're welcome, Conner."

Tim got the ice cream scoop out of the drawer and opened the ice cream Conner had left on the table. Conner held out his plate with an expression reminiscent of a starving puppy. Tim gave him a scoop and then, when Conner didn't take his plate away, a second.

"Here you are, Tim," said Ma, putting his plate on the table.

"I don't need such a big slice, Ma," he objected, per their ritual.

"Nonsense, you're a growing boy," she said as she always did.

"All right. Thank you, Ma." He served himself a scoop of ice cream, and one each for Ma and Pa, then put away the ice cream, washed the scoop, and took out forks for everyone. The smell of coffee was starting to fill up the kitchen. Ma put away what was left of the pie and Pa poured out coffee.

"Do you like coffee, Conner?" he asked.

"Yeah!" said Conner. "Can I have cream and sugar, though?"

"Cream's in the fridge," nodded Pa. "Sugar's in the bowl on the counter."

"Cool." Conner got out the cream and poured a healthy amount into the cup Pa handed him, then left the carton on the table. He spilled some sugar on the counter as he put several spoonfuls in his cup. Taking a sip from the brimming cup, he said, "Mmm, good stuff."

Tim made sure Ma got a little cream before putting it away and wiping up the sugar. He always took his coffee black, like Pa. Conner plopped down in a chair and took a huge bite of pie and ice cream. "Wow," he said through his mouthful. "'ish ish great, Aunt Marfa!"

"Thank you, dear," beamed Ma. "But don't talk with your mouth full, please," she added gently.

He swallowed and grinned. "Sorry," he said before taking another huge bite.

Tim had never been so glad that his parents had drilled proper table manners into him.

* * *

After dessert Tim picked up his bag, but Ma said, "Oh, do stay a little longer, Tim," so Tim stayed. There was washing up to do later anyway, and he doubted that Conner would help with that unless Ma asked him to.

"Time for the news," Pa said. They went into the other room and settled themselves in front of the small TV, Pa in his chair and Ma in hers, Tim by Ma's feet and Conner sprawled on the couch. Tim held up his hands for Ma's yarn and saw Conner staring at them, a weird look on his face. With a pang Tim wondered if this would start being Conner's job pretty soon.

"Thank you, dear," said Ma, ruffling his hair.

"Of course, Ma." He turned his attention to the screen.

The news was pretty dull - nothing about Batman or Superman. Ma and Pa were always interested in stories about Superman, Tim had noticed. He liked Batman better, he had ever since he'd been a kid and seen the mysterious vigilante comforting a young Dick Grayson at the circus. He hadn't told Ma and Pa, that, though. He just let them think that he liked Batman because he was from Gotham.

"You have a satellite dish?" said Conner in surprise.

Ma chuckled. "It was a Christmas present from Clark, though Tim was the one who risked his neck to set it up for us."

Tim shrugged. "Better me than Clark," he said. Martha cuffed him lightly in the side of his head.

"You think we don't worry about you getting hurt?" she said. Tim shrugged a little and watched the screen, feeling his ears get warm.

When the news was over, it was time for Jeopardy. Tim's hands were thoroughly wrapped up in yarn, so he stayed put. He liked Jeopardy.

First there were commercials, though, so he and Pa started a conversation about crop prices and weevils and whether they'd be getting enough rain next year. Conner rolled his eyes and looked bored.

The show started, and the first answer came up: "He said, 'I loved a particular Arab, and thought that freedom for the race would be an acceptable present.'" Alex intoned.

"Who was Thomas Edward Lawrence," said Tim absently. "No, Pa, based on the weather simulation I ran--"

"An imaginary line that encircles the earth, equidistant from--"

"What is the equator," Tim said. "Honestly, I think it will be all right this year. My calculations show--"

"This place has the highest average annual rainfall in the wor--"

"Mount Waialeale, Hawaii," said Tim. "We should definitely get enough rain this ye--"

"I knew that one!" Conner's voice cut into their conversation, and both Tim and Pa turned to look at him in surprise. Tim had almost forgotten he was there. Conner looked from one to the other of them and said, "Um, I've been there. To Mount Waialeale."

"This was the year of Woodstock, that man first--"

"What is 1969," said Tim automatically, still looking at Conner. Conner was staring at *him*, and Tim knew that look. It was the one the kids at school used to give him whenever he would raise his hand. It was the reason he didn't raise his hand anymore.

"Anyway," said Tim, turning back to the TV and trying to ignore the feeling of Conner's eyes still on the back of his neck, "as I was saying, Pa..."

The rest of the evening passed uneventfully. Tim stayed to help with the washing up before getting ready to walk home.

"You want a ride?" asked Pa, as always.

"No thanks, Pa. It's not a long walk," said Tim. As always.

The sun had slipped past the horizon long ago. Tim pulled on his jacket and made sure he had his pocket flashlight in case he needed it. Usually the stars were enough to see by to find his way back, though. He waved good bye and shut the door behind him, careful not to let the screen slam, and slipped on his headphones.

  
  
_"Tim in Flannel", by[shinigrace](http://shinigrace.livejournal.com/4722.html). Please do not re-post without the artist's permission._   


* * *

"Do you know how to do this, Ma?"

She dried her hands on a clean dishtowel and came to look over his shoulder. "Oh my," she said, peering at the sheet of math problems. "I haven't the faintest idea, Conner. Maybe Pa knows?"

"Knows what?" said Pa, pushing open the screen and stepping into the kitchen.

"Conner asked for help with his homework," explained Ma, so Pa joined them and peered at the paper for a moment, squinting through the lower half of his bifocals.

"I can't make head or tail of this, son. I'm sorry," he said, putting down the paper with an apologetic smile.

"I know! I'll call Clark!" said Ma with an air of inspiration, moving to pick up the phone. Kon froze for a moment and then he was out of his chair and halfway across the kitchen, his hand on her arm, before he realized he'd moved.

"No, Ma! Please!" he said, and they both looked at him, startled. He looked away, looked down. "I don't...I don't want to ask Clark for help," he admitted.

He could *feel* them blinking at him, but after a moment, Pa said, "All right, son."

The silence hung uncomfortably as he continued to not look at them. Then Ma said, "Well, perhaps you could ask Tim?"

"Tim? I..." Kon frowned and said hopefully, "Do you think he _would_?"

Ma smiled at him. "He's always ready to help, Conner. I'm sure if you asked him, he'd be glad to."

Conner wasn't so sure. "What's his deal, anyway?"

"Deal?" asked Pa.

"He's always hanging around, offering to help...do you guys, like, pay him or something? 'cause if you do it's kind of a waste, 'cause I can--" he stopped, because Pa was grinning, and he and Ma were exchanging amused looks. "What?"

"No, we don't pay him," said Ma with a little laugh.

Kon frowned in confusion. "Then what--"

"He's just a good kid," said Pa. "A really good kid. He likes to help out."

Kon looked from one of them to the other. "I...I could help out," he said. "What needs to be done?"

Ma and Pa looked at each other again, doing that thing where it was like they were communicating without actually saying anything. "Well, I could use some help in the garden," said Pa, finally.

Kon jumped up. "Can you show me what to do?"

* * *

There was a knock at the screen door. "Hey, Ma. I brought a few things," came Tim's voice.

"C'mon in," said Kon. "Oh, you brought milk? Cool. You must be a mind-reader, 'cause I just finished what we had in the fridge," he grinned, gesturing at the empty glass and the mostly-finished plate of cookies on the table in front of him. Tim didn't answer, just put the groceries and stuff he'd brought into the fridge. Kon felt the grin fade off his face and bent over his homework again with a sigh.

The door swung open as Ma came in from the parlor. "Conner, I-- Oh, hello, Tim," she said, the warmth obvious in her tone.

"Hey, Ma," he said with a little smile. He never, ever smiled at Kon like that. The best Kon could get was a smirk. "Anything I can help with, Ma?"

"Well...there's not too much, actually. Conner...Conner's been helping out." She hesitated as though she wanted to say more, but instead she just stepped outside, the door swinging shut behind her.

"Oh," said Tim, clearly startled. Kon grinned to himself again, feeling smug.

He knew Tim didn't like him. It'd been pretty damn obvious from the moment they met. Not that Tim ever actually *said* anything. But the look in his eyes, the way the muscles at the corners of his jaw would tighten sometimes...yeah. Obvious. What Kon hadn't known was *why*.

"Well," said Tim tentatively, "I could weed the vegetable garden-"

"Already done," said Kon.

"Oh. Maybe Pa'd like some help picking the-"

"That's done, too."

"You know, the barn needs-"

"Done," said Kon happily, and waited.

Tim probably just thought Kon was _lazy_ , Kon figured. After all, Kon hadn't been around much...he'd pretty much spent every spare moment he could at the Young Justice HQ, and after the thing with 'nita's parents and the blow-up with Greta, he'd even missed some school. Not that he cared about *that* - school was just a pointless waste of time anyway, as far as he was concerned, and he was only going to keep Clark and Ma and Pa happy.

But now Tim would see that Kon *wasn't* lazy, after all.

"Oh," said Tim. He studied Kon's face narrowly for a second, then looked at the floor. He looked...he looked unhappy.

Kon stared at him, then mentally shook himself. "Um," he started. "Hey, I'm gonna go, um...I'm gonna go into town to pick up a new CD. You...you wanna come?"

Tim just shook his head. "No, I...I ought to be going. Thanks, though," he added.

At that moment Ma came into the kitchen carrying a bucket of strawberries each hand.

"Let me help you with that, Ma," said Tim.

"I can get that, Ma," said Kon at the same time, jumping up. Tim was already taking it from her and setting it on the counter, though.

"Thank you, boys," she said, beaming at them. "Tim, Conner picked us a whole mess of strawberries. I think I'll make some pies."

"May I help?" asked Tim.

"I'd sure appreciate it if you would," she said, and he smiled his little smile at her.

"I could--" they turned to look at him, and Kon spun his pencil in his fingers. "I could help, too. I mean, if you need help."

"That would be lovely, Conner. But not until you're done with your homework."

"Yes, Ma," Kon sighed as he slumped back down in his chair, then blinked at the sight of Tim pulling an apron over his head and tying it around his waist. "You're wearing an *apron*?" he said in disbelief.

Tim _looked_ at him. "Why not?" he said.

"But...dude. Dude! An _apron?_ "

"Oh, for crying out loud, Conner," said Tim irritably. "Even chefs at four and five-star restaurants wear aprons."

Kon scowled at his paper, his hand tightening on his pencil until it cracked. Tim always did that, always managed to make him feel like a big, stupid, _doofus_. "Yeah, I _know_ ," he muttered, because he *did* know. "I lived in *Hawaii*, you know. I've *met* five-star chefs. And yeah, they wore aprons. But none of them wore aprons with little *flowers* on them."

"It's unwise to insult the chef," said Ma before Tim could respond. Looking at Kon with a twinkle in her eye she added, "He might decide to withhold pie in retaliation."

Kon shut up.

It wasn't fair, he thought bitterly. There Tim was, standing there kneading the dough for the crust, a look of concentration on his face and a streak of flour on his cheek, wearing an apron with little _flowers_ on it. And he was _still_ cooler than Kon.

  
  
_"But none of them wore aprons with little *flowers* on them", by[Colours07](http://colours07.livejournal.com/31633.html). Please do not re-post without the artist's permission._   


It didn't make any sense. They were in the middle of Smallville-fucking-Kansas, for god's sake! Tim dressed just like everyone else, a flannel shirt over his t-shirt and jeans. He was in good shape, just like all the farm kids. He was pretty good looking, but far from the handsomest guy in the school. He was just a *guy*, Kon told himself. There was no reason why Kon should even *care* what he thought. There was no reason for him to *be* cool.

And yet...Kon had never met anyone quite like Tim. He was *sharp*. It wasn't just that he always knew the answers to _all_ the questions on Jeopardy, or that he could always fix Ma's computer, or that he'd apparently _memorized_ his schoolbooks. It was more than that. He didn't seem to care what anyone else thought of him. He had this dry wit...and this way of looking at everyone around him like he was taking them apart in his head. Not undressing them...*that* look Kon knew perfectly well, thank you very much...it was something _else_.

"You know, Conner asked us for help with his homework," said Ma to Tim companionably, derailing Kon's train of thought. "But neither me nor Pa could make head or tail of it?" She laughed. "It might as well have been Greek to us for all the sense it made!"

Tim paused. He glanced over at Kon for a moment, and something...shifted in his gaze before he went back to working the dough in front of him. "Maybe I can help," he said casually.

"Oh, that would be awfully nice of you, dear," said Ma gratefully.

"What did you need help with, Conner?"

"Uh, Algebra," mumbled Kon. "But I got it figured out on my own."

"Why don't I come by after school tomorrow?" said Tim, and he smiled a little, though it was at the dough he was currently shaping into a crust, not really at Kon.

Kon smiled back anyway. "Cool."

* * *

Tim hefted his backpack. He'd started bringing extra books and study materials to help Conner with his homework. He frowned a little, going over the latest lesson in his mind, and lifted his hand to knock on the door.

He froze at the sound of a *CRASH*, then moved quickly to push open the door, but stopped as he heard voices.

"She doesn't want to do it anymore!" Conner was shouting, and then, less loudly, "She doesn't want...me anymore."

Ma's voice was quieter, muffled by the wall between the parlor and the kitchen, and Tim couldn't quite make out the words.

"No, it's *over*, Ma. We're through. Cassie's going back to Gateway City, and Bart to Keystone, and..." he broke off, and Ma's voice came again, her tone soothing, reassuring.

"I know, Ma. It's just that, after Hawaii...after Tana...they were...*They* were my family, you know? Robin's my best friend in the whole world--" and Tim's heart skipped a beat for a moment, but Conner's next words made it clear that 'Robin' was just a name, "--and Cassie...I thought we *had* something, and Bart is like, my other best friend and..."

Gentle murmurs. Tim strained his ears.

"I know I can still see them, but it won't be the _same_ , Ma. It's over. All because of a stupid *mistake*..."

He still couldn't hear her, until suddenly the door between the parlor and kitchen swung open and he could: "...always have a place with us," Ma was saying.

"I know, Ma. I know," said Conner, following her into the kitchen. "But I can't help wanting things to go back to how they *used* to be.

"That's natural, Conner--"

"Natural, maybe, but not the way the world works. I may be young, but I'm old enough to see *that*." He sighed. "Clark wants me here. He wants me to go to *school*," he said in tones of utter disgust. "And I really have no where else to go at this point, so..." he looked up at her, "I guess you're stuck with me for awhile, Ma."

Ma hugged him as she hugged anyone who she thought needed it, easily and without reservation. "And we're glad to have you, Conner," she said. "You can stay with us for as long as you need to."

Tim had heard enough. He stepped quietly off the porch while they were hugging and started the trek to his own house. He knew he couldn't talk to Conner right now, couldn't pretend to like him and try to drive more knowledge into his thick head. Not while he himself was boiling with fury.

Conner didn't even want to *be* here. He'd just come in and taken everything - taken it all _away_. He was hardly even *here*, always gone on the weekends and sometimes for days at a time, but somehow he still found time to do everything...all the chores that Tim had used to do, and even more besides. But then he himself had given Tim a reason to keep coming back. He'd been ridiculously far behind in some subjects, (though oddly knowledgeable in others) and Tim had taken it upon himself to see that Conner passed his sophomore year at Smallville High.

Now it seemed he'd be around more than ever. Tim didn't know what was up with Conner's soap-opera life, and he didn't care. He didn't *want* to know any more than he had to about that arrogant, rude, ungrateful _jerk_.

He'd keep tutoring him. Keep smiling and encouraging him and pushing him to do better. He wasn't going to let himself get pushed out so easily, he'd *make* a place for himself there, make himself *indispensable* to them. And Ma and Pa would _appreciate_ him, because they'd know that *he* was the reason Conner had done so well.

* * *

"No," said Tim with deliberate patience. "Let's try again, Conner."

Kon sighed and scowled at the book, wishing he had heat vision and could just set the whole thing on fire. They'd been at this for weeks, now. Kon had thrown himself into his homework, determined to prove to Tim that he wasn't the fuck-off that Tim seemed to think he was. Between Tim's help and Kon's dedication, his grades had improved exponentially...and yeah, he actually knew what that word meant now, thanks to Tim.

The better grades Kon got, the more Tim seemed to want to work. When Kon started to ace his math tests, Tim wanted to help him with his chemistry. When his chemistry grade jumped, Tim started in on his *English*, making so many changes and suggestions on his essay that Kon's teacher had accused Kon of downloading it off the internet until he'd shown her the draft. At which point she'd said that, while she appreciated that he'd gotten a proofreader, she wanted to see *his* work, not Tim's.

The point was, Tim _still_ didn't like him. It was the little things, the way he looked at him when he thought Kon couldn't see, the expression behind his eyes when he came through the screen door every day after school and found Kon sitting at the kitchen table.

Tim...Tim hated him. The thought struck with sudden and blinding force, making him snap the pencil in his fingers.

"Oh. Did you break your pencil *again*?" Tim said, and suddenly Kon couldn't take it anymore.

He looked up and met Tim's steady gaze. "Why do you hate me?" he asked.

Tim's eyes widened. "I don't hate you," he said.

"Yeah you do," said Kon. "You won't even *talk* to me at school, even to answer questions about the work. You just tell me to wait until we get back to the Farm." He closed his book and looked down at it, frowning. "I don't get why you're even doing this. You've never liked me, no matter what I do." Tim was quiet, so Kon looked back up at him.

There was a frown line between Tim's brows, but it was a 'I'm thinking' line. "Of course I like you," he said after a moment. "Why would I do this if--"

"I don't *know*," and a little of Kon's frustration came out in his voice. "I don't know why you're doing this, and I don't know what I did to make you hate me, and..."

"You don't appreciate them," said Tim abruptly. "They're the best thing that ever happened to you, and you can't even see it. You don't even want to *be* here."

It was so _unfair_. "Of *course* I don't want to be here!" he yelled. "You think this was my choice?" Tim looked startled, but Kon wasn't going to stop now. "I _shouldn't_ be here. I should be out _there_ \--" he caught himself and squeezed his hands into fists to keep from hitting something. "I should be out there doing things," he said. " _Important_ things." He waited for Tim's subtle mockery, for him to ask him if by 'important things' Kon meant surfing and partying, but Tim didn't say anything. He just stared at Kon like he'd never seen him before.

No...like he was seeing him for the first time.

"You don't even know anything _about me_ ," said Kon. He stood up and walked away, starting up the stairs. "Look, just...I can figure this stuff out on my own. I can handle the farm work. I don't need your help, okay?"

Tim still didn't answer, so Kon turned and looked at him over his shoulder. Tim's face was pale and stricken. "I..." he said, his voice barely more than a whisper.

Kon waited, but he didn't say anything else, so Kon turned his back on him, went up to his room, and closed his door.

A few minutes later he heard movement outside his room, quiet footsteps on the wooden floor. They approached, hesitated, stopped. Went past his door and returned again. Doubled back again. Finally they stopped in front of his door. "I'm sorry," came Tim's voice, barely loud enough to carry through the door. "You're right. I was...I. I'm sorry."

Kon wished he could see through the door -- and then, for a split-second, he _could_. The image flashed before him, Tim had one hand and his forehead pressed flat against the door, his eyes squeezed shut. He was still whiter than Kon had ever seen him.

In a blink it was gone. Kon didn't answer, just waited. Eventually he heard footsteps again, retreating down the hallway, down the stairs. The screen door at the back of the house opened and closed - Tim never let it slam.

Kon got off his bed and went to his window that looked out from the back of the house. Tim was walking away, hands shoved in his pockets.

He didn't look back.

* * *

The sound of the doorbell made Tim jump. He considered ignoring it for a long moment - most of the people in town knew that his parents were away, and it was unlikely that anyone would be there to see *him*. It was probably some optimistic salesman that was willing to trek down their long driveway on the off-chance of making a sale to the richest family in Smallville.

He should at least find out who it was, though. With a sigh he got up and went over to the video intercom and pushed the button.

Ma was standing on the porch, wearing her second-best hat and carrying a purse over her shoulder and a shopping bag in her hand. Tim blinked at the image and pushed the other button. "Ma?" he said.

"Tim? Is that you, hon?"

"Just a second, Ma." Tim hurried to the door and opened it. "Please come in," he said, taking her burden and escorting her past the uncomfortable matching leather upholstered couch and chairs, across the stone floor and into the kitchen. "Can I get you a cup of tea?" he asked her as he offered her one of the kitchen chairs.

"That would be nice," she said. "That's a thirsty walk." With a nod to the bag he'd set on the table she added, "I brought you a casserole. I made an extra one last night, and since you haven't been around in awhile, I thought I'd bring it over."

"Oh," he said, his ears reddening. "Thank you. That was nice of you." He got out the kettle, carefully wiping it out before filling it with water and setting it on the stove.

"We've missed you at the farm," said Ma as he reached up for the teacups and saucers.

"I've missed you, too," he said after a moment. He'd even missed tutoring Conner, after the first week of exile. Eschewing his mother's baggies of peppermint-flavor, he opened the jar of loose-leaf Darjeeling instead.

"You know you're always welcome to stop by, right, Tim?"

"Oh...well, Conner's doing all the chores, now. And his grades have improved, so he...he said he didn't need my help anymore."

She watched him, a thoughtful frown on her face. "Tim...I don't mean to pry, but...did you two have a fight?"

He couldn't look at her. "Sort of. It was my fault. I should've..." _I should have tried harder to make him think I liked him._ "...I should've been a better friend."

"I hate to see the two of you on the outs like this, Tim. You've been such good friends--"

"No," he said, shaking his head. Looking up, he met her eye. "We weren't friends, Ma."

That clearly gave her pause. The kettle began to warble, its high-pitched whistle cutting between them. Tim got up and put the leaves in to brew, feeling her eyes following him, hearing her silent questions.

"It wasn't his fault," he said, his back to her. "He wanted to be my friend." Still she didn't speak. His shoulders drooped. "I used him," he said, very softly.

"I don't understand," she said.

Moving slowly, he put the lid back on the jar of tea and returned it to its place in the cabinet. "He was doing all of the chores," he said. "I offered to tutor him so that I could...so I would have a reason to..."

"Oh. Oh, _Tim_ ," said Ma. "Surely you don't think...you don't believe that the only reason we wanted you around was..."

"Conner's your family," he said quickly. "I'm just....I'm...not." With deliberate care he lifted the kettle and filled the teacups before returning it to the stove. Only when he'd placed the teacups on the table did Ma speak up again.

"Tim, did you know that Clark is adopted?" He looked up, startled. "We don't...we don't like to remind people of that, but it's true. I couldn't have children, as it turned out. Clark's not our family by blood...and neither is Conner." Tim's eyes were wide. "It's never made a whit of difference to us. We couldn't love Clark more if he _were_ born our son..." she reached out and took his hand in both of hers, "...just like we couldn't love you more if you were born our grandson."

Tim closed his eyes. "Oh, _Ma_ ," he said, his voice cracking.

"Tim," she said, standing and drawing him into her arms. "My Timmy." She hadn't called him that in years. He couldn't say anything, could only bury his face in her shoulder. She smelled like apricots and fabric softener and sunshine. "You don't have to look for a reason to come over," she said, stroking his hair. "You don't ever have to try to find an _excuse_ , Tim. You'll _always_ have a place with us. _Always_."

* * *

Kon looked up from his homework at the sound of the door. Ma pushed open the screen, then held it open so that Tim could follow. He looked at Kon, then quickly looked away. "Hey," he said.

"Hey," said Kon back. Tim seemed...different, somehow.

"Would you boys like some pie?" asked Ma, and Kon grinned. Ma was of the opinion that no problem was so great that it couldn't be solved with the judicious application of pie.

Tim stared at the floor. "I...yeah. Thanks," he said.

Ma smiled at him and started pulling out the pie and the plates. Tim had his hands shoved in his pockets. His eyes flicked up to Kon again and then away.

Well, this was awkward.

"Conner, I-"

"You know--"

They stopped, and Kon shrugged. "You first," he said.

"I'm sorry," said Tim. "I--"

Kon held up a hand. "You already apologized, man. It's cool."

Tim looked up, then, surprised. "Really?"

"Yeah. Apology accepted, okay?"

"I...okay."

Ma set a two slices of pie on the table. "Why don't you sit down, Tim?" She was beaming at both of them.

Tim sat and picked up his fork. "What were you going to say?" he asked.

"Hm?" said Kon around a mouthful. "Oh. I got the new _Terra Flops_ CD. You want to listen to it with me? I mean, my laptop speakers are kind of crap, but..."

"I'd like that," said Tim, and smiled that small smile at him.

That was the difference, Kon realized suddenly. Tim didn't hate him.

"If you want..." Tim began. Kon looked at him inquiringly. "We could listen to it at my parents' house. They have a great stereo system."

"Oh. Really?" Kon re-evaluated several of the ideas he'd had about Tim. "Cool."

"That's fine," said Aunt Martha. "Just be back in time for dinner, _boys_."

"Yes ma'am," said Kon.

"Yes ma'am," said Tim, and even though he was looking at his plate, Kon could see the quiet happiness spread across his face.  


 

~End of Year One: Winter~


	2. Year One: "Taking Root", Spring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When he was nine years old, young Timothy Drake's family decided to move to a small town in Kansas...
> 
>  
> 
> _"Keep it," he said. "It can be the first CD in your collection."_
> 
> _Tim looked down at the plastic case with its brightly colored insert, then back up at Conner. "I...Thanks," he said. "Thank you."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word Count this chapter: 6783 words  
> Rating, this chapter: PG-13, mainly for adolescent humor XD; (NC-17 overall)  
> Special thanks to iesika, the_protagonist, snake_easing, and my friend Rachel, all of whom have been reading and encouraging me to continue!

"*Dude*," said Conner, staring up at the house. "This is where you *live*?"

Tim quickly unlocked the door. "It's. My _parents'_ house," he said with quiet emphasis as he pushed it open and escorted Conner inside. The other boy looked around him, wide-eyed, as Tim led him through the front rooms and into the kitchen. "Would you like something to drink? I have tea, and grape Zesti...or I could make some chocolate milk. I *think* the milk's still good..."

"Zesti's fine," said Conner, and Tim grabbed him one and one for himself.

"Come on, the TV room's through here," said Tim. Conner popped the top on his soda and took a swig, then followed, but stopped short in the doorway, nearly dropping the can. "Holy _crap_ ," he said.

Tim turned around. "The CD player's, um, over here," he said. He pushed a button and a whole wall of little lights came on. Conner was still staring at the giant TV, though.

"Dude, you must have the *best* movie nights," he said in a voice of awe. Tim shrugged. Conner looked around. "Where are your DVDs?"

Tim busied himself with the stereo. "We don't...really have any," he said.

Conner blinked. "No DVDs? With a setup like _this_?"

With another shrug, Tim said, "I don't actually watch much TV...if there's something I want to see, I usually download it or watch it at Ma and Pa's house."

Looking almost _frustrated_ , Conner said, "But all they have is that tiny old TV. You could be watching it *here*, on *this*."

 _By *myself*_ , thought Tim. "Do you have any movies?" he asked, changing the subject.

"Well, yeah, a few. And of course, all my _Wendy_ tapes - oh _man_. Maybe we could watch *those* on this! 'course, the DVD set's due to be released pretty soon." He tore his eyes from the TV. "You know _Wendy_ , right?"

"Wendy..." Tim thought for a moment. "I, um..."

" _Wendy, The Werewolf Stalker_?" said Conner. "I mean, you've *seen* it, right?"

"Well, I've *heard* of it, of course," said Tim hastily.

"Oh _man_. Listen, when the DVDs come out, I am *totally* getting them, and then we are *totally* going to watch them on this huge-ass TV, and it is going to be _awesome!_ "

Tim smiled hesitantly. "Okay," he said. He had his doubts about whether he would like the show, but he was willing to give it a shot. He kind of owed Conner, he figured.

Conner looked back at the TV for another long moment, then turned to Tim. "So, CD player?" he said, pulling out the case and handing it over. He glanced around the room as Tim took it from him, and his eyes narrowed. "Where's *your* music collection? I wanna know what kind of stuff you listen to, man!"

"Um..."

"Wait, don't tell me, let me guess," said Conner, holding up a hand. "On your computer?" He grinned at Tim.

Tim found himself smiling back sheepishly. "I get most of my music online...I pretty much only listen to music on my mp3 player anyway, or at Ma and Pa's house."

Conner just shook his head in disbelief. "At Ma and Pa's, all they have is an old *record player*." Tim nodded. Often Ma would put on a record as she tidied up or baked, sometimes old showtunes, sometimes other old music. One memorable summer evening Tim had come in from doing a few chores and found Ma and Pa _dancing_ to what she'd blushingly admitted afterward was *their* song.

Tim...kind of liked the records, the sound the needle made when it touched down, the little clicks and pops before the music started. He'd bought some of the songs online, but it was never the same.

Carefully removing the CD from its case, he placed it in the tray and pushed the 'Close' button. The music came on, and Conner leaned over his shoulder and turned the volume up to a level that Tim was pretty sure was unnecessarily loud.

"Do you like it?" asked Conner, and he seemed genuinely interested in the answer, and...hopeful, so Tim listened.

The music was fast-paced pop, fairly generic, but some of the lyrics were clever. Conner was nodding his head in time with the beat, his whole body bobbing with the rhythm, and watching Tim's face.

"I...yeah," said Tim. "Yeah, it's pretty good."

Conner's face lit up. "I love this song," he said. When it came to the end, he pushed the 'Skip' button a few times. "This is a really good one, too." It was an angrier song, all about how companies were destroying the Earth and there would be nothing left for the next generation. Tim privately thought that the lyrics were a little more trite in this one, but the driving beat of the music was...actually rather compelling. He might even add it to one of his playlists.

Conner was watching him again, so Tim smiled at him and said, "Good stuff." He held out the CD case to Conner, who looked down at it, and back up at Tim.

"You can have it, if you want," he said.

"Oh," said Tim, "But, I can buy it online--"

"I know," said Conner, "But it's not the same as listening to it on the big speakers, right? This way you can really _feel_ the music, you know? With your whole body, not just your ears."

"I...never thought about it like that before," said Tim in some surprise. "I guess you're right."

"Had to happen sometime," Conner shot back cheerfully. "Or at least, that's what Cassie used to tell me..." a shadow passed over his face, but he shook himself and pressed the case into Tim's hand. "Keep it," he said. "It can be the first CD in your collection."

Tim looked down at the plastic case with its brightly colored insert, then back up at Conner. "I...Thanks," he said. "Thank you."

"No problem," said Conner. "Oh, you have to hear *this* track," he turned back to the stereo and began to press the 'Skip' button again. Tim moved aside some of his mother's knick-knacks and carefully placed the case on the shelf with them.

* * *

Kon couldn't *wait* to get home. Three more minutes and detention would be *over*, and then he was gonna _fly_ and be _out_ of here for a whole weekend.

There were a lot of bad things about having grown up in a test tube, but in Kon's opinion, missing a decade of school had not been one of them. If he was ready to set his desk on fire just to get *out* after a few *months* of the place, he'd never have survived going there his whole life, he was sure of it. He was surprised *Clark* had.

Two minutes.

God, the clock seemed to move so slowly. Kon supposed it was worse for Bart, 'cause for him the clock really *did* start to slow down sometimes, not just _seem_ to. Kon could move super-fast when he *wanted* to, but for Bart it was hard to *stop*.

One minute.

He was gonna go home and throw his books in a corner and not look at them the entire damned weekend. He was gonna go *out* and *party* and...he sighed. Yeah, like there were so many party possibilities in stupid *Smallville*. Well, maybe he'd swing by Metropolis. Drop in on Clark. Or Gotham...he could stop and say 'hi' to Robin...except that Batman would be there...

The minute hand hit the half-hour mark and Kon stood up, slinging his bag over his shoulder. "See you next week, Ms. Johnson."

The woman looked up from the papers she was grading and gave him a nod. "Until next week, Conner. Be good."

Ms. Johnson wasn't so bad, Conner reflected. She usually got stuck with detention-duty, maybe because she always seemed to be there late correcting papers. Kon wondered if she was as eager to get out of there as *he* was, then promptly forgot about her as he stepped through the classroom door and into the hallway.

Freedom! Kon took a deep breath and glanced around, getting ready to change at super speed and take off.

"Hey," said someone from behind him. Kon nearly jumped out of his skin. He spun around and came almost nose-to-nose with Tim before hastily backpedaling. "Sorry, I." Tim cleared his throat. "I didn't mean to startle you."

"Dude," said Kon, taking a breath, "Make a little noise next time, will you?" He frowned. "What are you doing here? *You* didn't have detention."

Tim smiled a little and shook his head. "I was working on a project in the library. I thought. I thought, maybe, we could walk together?"

Kon bit his lip. He wanted to get *out* of there...he wanted to *fly*! But there was a hopeful tone in Tim's voice that Kon couldn't ignore. He wondered if Tim had stayed late just to invite him to walk home with him, then kicked himself for being arrogant. He was trying to work on that.

Apparently he'd taken too long to answer, because Tim's face was falling. It wasn't a big change, just a shift in his eyes. "It's okay," he said. "You've probably got stuff to do--"

"Nah," said Kon. "C'mon, let's blow this joint!"

Tim's eyes brightened again. "You sure?"

"Yeah, let's just get _outta_ here, man!" Kon grabbed Tim's arm and dragged him past the lockers to the big double doors at the front of the school.

"Whoa, hey!" Tim yelped. "I'm coming, I'm coming!" he said with a snort. "You got a big weekend planned or something, Conner?"

Kon shrugged. "Why spend a single second here longer than we *have* to?" He pushed open the doors, then released Tim's arm and tore down the front steps.

"Hey...wait!" Kon just laughed as Tim gave chase. "Conner!" Kon pounded off down the road, staying just ahead of Tim. He was holding back, of course, and running wasn't *nearly* as good as flying, but he didn't care anymore. He was gonna go home and eat some of Ma's good food and _relax_. Maybe go out and find some people to rescue tonight. He ran for awhile, enjoying the feel of the sun on his skin, until Tim started to fall behind.

He rounded a bend and stopped in his tracks. A little kid with coppery braids and about ten million freckles was standing not far from the road, sobbing. "What's the matter, kid?" asked Conner as Tim caught up with them, panting. The little girl just shook her head and pointed at a nearby tree. "Did something get stuck in the tree? A kite?"

"My KITTY!" wailed the girl. Kon narrowed his eyes at the leaves, wishing he could control his x-ray vision. For a moment it flickered, and he caught sight of a gingery tabby kitten perched on one of the higher branches.

Oh, for...

Well, Superman had to start somewhere, right? "I'll get it for you, kid," he said.

"Conner, wait," said Tim, still somewhat winded. He turned to the girl. "Look, cats climb things. If you leave it alone, it will come down on its own."

"B-but, he's just a *baby*!" the girl wailed. "He'll fall!"

Tim sighed. "Can you get some tuna fish?"

Kon rolled his eyes. "I'll get it," he said, starting toward the tree.

"The *worst* thing you can do is go up after it, Conner!" He turned to the girl again. "Cats are *good* at climbing! You're probably scaring it by shouting like that." The kid gasped and shut up, but Kon was already reaching for the first branch and pulling himself up. "Conner, jeez, you're going to break your neck and then Ma will *kill* me!"

"I'm not gonna break my neck," said Kon with a smirk.

"That branch won't hold your weight--" Kon swung himself back and forth a little, then bent his arms and pulled himself up in a single smooth, easy motion, hoping it looked natural. He glanced down to see Tim staring at him, wide-eyed.

"Did you...did you take *gymnastics* in Hawaii or something?"

" _Gymnastics?_ Um, *no*!" said Kon, a little appalled that Tim would accuse him of anything so girly. He held himself up with one hand and reached up with the other to catch the next branch, getting his feet under himself and repeating the motion, climbing higher and higher as Tim watched. Almost there...

...and then the branch he was perched on gave a loud CRACK.

" _Conner!_ " Tim yelled, his voice ringing with raw terror...

Kon had a split second to pretend to _jump_ for the next branch and catch hold of it and swing himself onto it before the one he'd been standing on came crashing down and nearly gave the game away.

"Jesus, Conner!" said Tim, and Conner peered down from his perch. Tim was white...whiter than Kon had seen him since that day when he told Tim he didn't need his help. His fists were clenched at his sides and his eyes wide. "Will you *please* come down before you get *killed*?"

"But I've almost got it!"

"The goddamned cat will come down on its *own* if you just leave the thing *alone*, Conner!"

"Ooooh! You said a bad word!" said the little girl, her eyes round.

Kon could almost hear Tim's teeth grinding. "Look," said Tim flatly, "Your kitty will come down in its own good time if you just. Go. Home!"

"Got it!" Kon curled his hand around the tiny ball of ginger-striped fluff and held it close to his chest. It hissed and tried to claw and bite him, but its claws skidded off his invulnerable skin. He pet it until it calmed down, then looked down, trying to figure out how he was going to get out of the tree without revealing himself.

"You stay there," suggested Tim. "I'll go get a ladder."

That would take *forever*. Kon curled one hand around the kitten and started to shimmy around the trunk of the tree to the other side. "I can make it."

"Conner, _no_ ," said Tim, clearly exasperated. "I'll get you a ladder and we'll get you down _safel--_ " He stopped as Kon swung himself down with one hand. He could *just* reach the next branch with his toes, he 'balanced' on it for a second before crouching down and swinging to the next, and then the next, and then down to the ground.

The kitten seemed fairly calm, now - Kon had it wrapped up in a TTK field, and it seemed to like it - so he risked handing it to the girl. She took it and cuddled it for a moment. "Oh, *thank you*!" she said. "Thank you so much--oh!" The cat jumped out of her arms and took off in an orange streak, the child chasing after it and calling, "Kitty! Kitty, wait!"

Tim snorted. "Let's get out of here before the damn thing climbs another tree and you really *do* break your neck. Idiot boyscout."

Kon stopped in his tracks. " _What_ did you call me?"

"I called you an *idiot*, which you are, because if you'd just _listened_ to me--"

"Not that. The other thing."

Tim looked at him and raised an eyebrow, his composure almost completely returned. "What, 'boyscout'? As in, someone who runs around doing completely unnecessary 'good deeds'...isn't that the definition of 'boyscout'?"

Kon stared at him for a moment longer, then grinned. "Yeah, I guess so," he said. "C'mon, let's get home."

* * *

"Happy Birthday, dear Conner, Happy Birthday to you!"

"Make a wish, dear," said Ma.

"A wish?" said Conner. "Okay. Uh...okay, I got one." He took a breath and blew all the candles out at once, even knocking over a couple of them in the process.

"What did you wish for?" asked Tim as he got up and opened the freezer.

"Um...I'm not supposed to tell, right?" said Conner as he went to the cupboard, took out a stack of dessert plates and set them on the table. "Or it won't come true?"

"That's right, Conner," said Ma, slicing into the huge chocolate cake.

Tim started scooping ice cream onto the plates - two scoops for Conner. "It's a silly superstition anyway," he said.

Pa was measuring out coffee. "So you don't make a wish when you blow out your candles, Tim?" he said.

Conner put down the forks and looked across the table at Tim, who stared down at the ice cream. "I didn't say that," he said sheepishly. Everyone laughed.

When they were finished, with the remainder of the noble cake wrapped up and put away and the table cleared, Tim left the room and returned a minute later with a large, rectangular package wrapped in bright gold paper. He set it in front of Conner and said with a small smile, "Happy Birthday."

Conner's eyes went wide. "Whoa, what *is* this, man?"

"Open it and see," said Tim, his smile widening into a grin.

Without further ado, Conner tore into the paper eagerly. "Dude!" he cried as the familiar logo was revealed. "I was saving up for this! It's the Wendy boxed-" he stopped as the rest of the paper came away, staring at the box in his hands. " _Dude_ ," he whispered. "Is this what I *think* it is?"

Tim shrugged. "If you think it's the Special Limited Edition Wendy the Werewolf Stalker boxed set, then yes, it is what you think it is."

Conner stared down at the box in his hands. "How did you _get_ this? They only made, like, five-hundred of them!"

Tim just shrugged again. "I got lucky," he said. And it didn't hurt that his parents had given him a gold card and told him he could buy whatever he wanted with it, as long as he didn't go over a certain limit each month. They'd probably be pleased to see that he'd purchased something other than music and computer parts.

"Whoa, sweet!" said Conner, interrupting Tim's thoughts. "Look at this, man! It comes with a certificate for the new _Wendy_ game on any platform you want!"

Tim looked at the package curiously. "But you don't have a console, do you?" Well, he might have one at his mom's house, or wherever it was that he disappeared to occasionally, Tim supposed. Ma had explained that Conner's family situation was 'complicated', and asked Tim not press him too hard for details of his family life. Tim had done his best to comply - the last thing he wanted to do was make Conner uncomfortable, especially after their rocky start.

"Nah, but my friend over in Keystone has one," said Conner happily. "I can go to his house and play it!"

"Which console is the best?" asked Tim, thinking of next month's 'allowance' on his gold card. "My...parents said they might get me one..."

"Well, there's the Gamestation and the Y-Box, right? They're both good, but for _fun_ , it's gotta be the Playtendo Eee."

"Yeah?" said Tim.

"Oh yeah, it has the motion-sensor stuff going on. I played it at my friend's house...it's pretty sweet."

Tim wondered who this other friend was as he started planning. At the beginning of next month he'd order an Eee and a selection of games...he'd have to find out which ones Conner liked--

His train of thought derailed again as Conner threw an arm around him and pulled him off-balance and into a rough hug.

"Thanks, man," he said. "This is like, the best present *ever*!"

"You're-you're welcome," stammered Tim, feeling the skin of his face heat. "I'm glad you like it." Conner let go of him, and Tim smiled at his friend. "Happy Birthday, Conner."

* * *

The house was *old*, musty-smelling and kind of falling apart. Kon looked around with a puzzled frown, staring at the cracked and flaking paint, the doors hanging off their hinges, and said, "What *is* this place?"

Tim didn't answer, just smiled and led the way further in. Beams of sunlight muted by dirty windows lit up the dust hanging in the air. As far as Kon could see, there was nothing here - it was just an empty, half-wrecked house.

Tim came to a trap door in the floor, and with a heave, he pulled it open. A smell of damp and dirt rose from the rectangular opening. "Be very careful on the stairs," said Tim, pulling a flashlight out of the backpack he'd insisted on carrying and handing it to Kon, then getting out another for himself. "They're old, so tread lightly." He slung his backpack over his shoulders again and started down the wooden staircase, which creaked ominously with every step. Kon followed carefully, his feet barely touching the stairs until Tim said, "Are you coming?" and turned to find Kon standing right behind him. "Oh! Weird, I didn't hear you."

"Well, you did say to tread lightly," said Kon, forcing a smile. After that he allowed enough weight onto each step to make it squeak.

Finally they reached the bottom. In spite of the light coming from the trapdoor it was very dark, with an almost cavernous feeling. "The basement has more square footage than the house," explained Tim, "And no room divisions." He made his way over to a table and did something with his back to Kon. Moments later a soft glow illuminated the room.

"It's an old hurricane lantern," said Tim, turning up the flame. "I found it down here with everything else." Kon looked around, taking in what Tim meant by 'everything else'.

There were several bookshelves, their upper shelves filled with books and the lower ones empty. There was a table with various paraphernalia scattered on it, glass beakers and tubes and what looked a bit like a Bunsen burner, Kon thought. Cardboard boxes and wooden trunks were piled against two of the walls. It smelled of age and mildew.

"Isn't it _cool_?" said Tim.

The place gave Kon the creeps. "Sure," he said. "Why are the books all up top?"

"It flooded a couple of times, so I moved all the books to the higher shelves. When I got here the shelves were only half-full...he must have taken his favorites with him."

"*Who* took them with him?" asked Kon, pouncing on the word.

"The person who owned this house...who still owns it as far as I know. Lex Luthor," said Tim.

Kon couldn't speak for a moment. Then, "Lex _Luthor_? This house belongs to _Lex Luthor_?"

Tim looked at him in surprise. "Didn't you know he grew up in Smallville?" asked Tim.

"No. Yes! I--" Kon looked around a little wildly, his skin crawling. "You're breaking and entering! He'll come after you and--"

"Conner! Relax!" said Tim. "Look, I'm not hurting anything - I've never taken anything away or messed with anything, except things like moving the books. This place has been abandoned for *years*. Besides, this is the stuff that Luthor left _behind_ , the stuff he didn't want. He's not going to care if a couple of kids hang out in his basement...he won't even *know* about it."

Kon was frowning. "I wouldn't bet on that," he said, more to himself than Tim, and shook his head. Suddenly he looked up, his eyes narrowing. "Do Ma and Pa know you come here?" he asked shrewdly.

Tim looked away. "No," he said. "I tried to tell Ma about it once, but...she looked mad and said she didn't want to talk about Lex Luthor. And Pa said it was a dangerous old place, and I shouldn't mess around here," he added, looking guilty.

"Then why--?"

"It's a *secret*, Conner!" Kon just stared at him. "I used to play down here, to hide things from my parents here...I can come here just to, to be alone. It's *my* place."

"So why are you showing it to *me*?"

"Because you're my *friend*!" He crossed his arms across his chest. "I've never. You're the only one I've ever brought here."

"Oh." Kon tried to think. "But...if no one knows you're here, isn't it dangerous? What if those stairs collapsed or something, you could be trapped here!"

"I have a cell phone, Conner," said Tim, sounding exasperated. "And I'm always careful."

"But--"

"Let's just go," said Tim abruptly, and put out the lantern, plunging the place back into darkness except for the dim circles of their flashlights and the square of light above them.

"Tim, wait, I--"

"You don't like it," said Tim. He was heading for the stairs now.

"It's not that! It's just...if Pa says it's dangerous--"

"Because you are the poster-child for doing things the _safe_ way, Mr. 'I climb up into precarious trees that can't support my weight to rescue kittens that could damn well get down on their own anyway'."

"That was different!"

"Why, because you were putting your life *directly* in danger, whereas I am only taking a calculated risk?"

 _I'm invulnerable. I can't *get* hurt, unlike you, you stubborn little..._ Kon made a frustrated sound and hurried after Tim, catching his arm before he could start up the rickety steps. "Dude...just, just *listen* to me for a second, okay?" Tim stopped trying to pull away.

"I'm listening," he said.

"Look," Kon took a breath. "In my family, Lex Luthor's kind of a...a boogeyman," he said, feeling like an idiot.

In the faint light coming from above, Tim's face looked skeptical. "Be good or Lex Luthor will come and take you away?" he said, mildly sarcastic.

"Well, something like that," said Kon. _He's only Superman's *nemesis*,_ he thought irritably. "And you have to admit, this place is kinda creepy. I mean, weren't you the least bit freaked out the first time you came here?"

Tim opened his mouth, then paused. "Yeah," he admitted, "Though to be fair, that was also in the middle of a thunderstorm. And I was _ten_."

"Okay, but you see my point, right? But I'm over being creeped out, now, so why don't you show me around?"

Tim looked up at him for a moment, then grinned. "You big liar. You are *not* over being creeped out."

"Dude!" Kon objected. He was *trying* to be cool, here.

Tim shook his head, but he pulled away and crossed the room to light the hurricane lantern again. He glanced around, and, after a moment's indecision he crossed to where a stack of white cards sat on top of one of the boxes. "Know what these are?" he said, picking them up.

"Um...cards?"

Tim held one of them up and Kon could see that it had a bunch of small, square holes punched in it in what looked like a totally random pattern. "These are a computer program."

Kon stared. "A _computer program?_ "

Tim nodded, his lips turning up in a smile. "I researched them. Before computers like we have today, all they had were these huge, primitive machines that had to be programmed with cards like these."

Fascinated despite himself, Kon came forward and took one of the cards, examining it. "They look like one of those fill-in-the blank tests." They'd made Kon take a bunch of those when he started at Smallville High.

Tim nodded. "Or a ballot. I wonder if they had as much of a problem with 'hanging chads'," he snorted. Kon looked at him blankly. "You know, improperly punched holes? Like in the election?" Kon had no idea what he was talking about, so he just nodded. "Anyway, these work on a similar principle. But the computers that could read them were so huge and expensive, that only big institutions like governments and universities could afford them. A campus would buy one, and the students would have to sign up to use it."

"Oh," said Kon, interested in spite of himself. "So what's this one do?"

"I have no idea. I don't know if these were ever even run on an actual computer," said Tim, looking down at the stack. "I suspect Luthor made the cards before he even had access to one. By the time he *did*, he'd probably moved on to more advanced programs. Or maybe these were obsolete by then, I don't know...but regardless, he didn't bring them with him when he left."

"Huh," said Kon. "How about this?" he picked up what looked like a wide metal ruler in a mildewed leather case.

Tim smiled. "That's a slide-rule," he said. "It's what people used before calculators. I looked up how to use it online." He held out his hand. "Here, I'll show you. Give me three, three-digit numbers, and I'll give you an estimation of their product."

"Uh...three-hundred and twenty-four," said Kon, "Five-hundred and twenty and, um, one-hundred and twelve."

Tim slid something along the ruler and muttered to himself for several long moments, then said, "If you multiply those three numbers together, you'll get an answer which is just under 18.9 million."

Kon frowned. "It doesn't give you an exact answer?"

"No," said Tim patiently, "It's not like a calculator. But for many applications an inexact answer would be sufficient."

"But what if you needed an exact answer?"

"Then you had to work it out on paper, or in your head."

Kon snorted. "Nobody could work that out in their head." Tim's eyes got distant for a long moment.

"Tim?"

He held up a hand in a shushing gesture. After a minute or two had gone by, he said, "Eighteen million, eight-hundred and sixty-nine thousand, seven-hundred and sixty."

Kon's mouth fell open. "You...you did *not* just multiply those in your head. I call bullshit."

Tim just raised an eyebrow at him. "You can check on a calculator when you get home, if you want."

"I don't even remember which three numbers I picked!"

"I do." Tim looked a little smug.

"All right, SuperMath," said Kon, rolling his eyes. "You can tell me when we get back and I'll check on my calculator." He wandered next to a wall, picking up some rusty pieces of metal. "What's this?"

Tim lit up. "Oh, that's pretty cool, actually. It's an Erector Set."

"A _what_?"

"An Erector Set," said Tim. "Kind of like early Legos, but cooler--What?"

Kon was chortling. " _Erector_ Set? Don't you think that's the *least* bit funny?" he said between gasps.

Tim blinked, an unwilling smile creeping onto his face. "I guess...I never though about it. It's really *not* funny; they mean it in the sense of building something, like 'erecting' a building--"

"Hey, Tim, can I come over and play with your _Erection Set?_ "

"It's...it wasn't *intended* to be funny," said Tim. Color was creeping into his cheeks, and he bit his lip. "I mean, they were a common toy, back--"

"Did they build towers with their Erection Sets? Compare whose Erection Set was bigger?"

"I'm not...it's not..." Tim lost it, choked giggles spilling out in spite of himself. Kon felt a thrill of victory. He'd never really made Tim *laugh* before.

"So what else did old Lex keep up here? A Boner Kit? Stiffy Bricks? I gotta see, man!" he said.

Tim just shook his head and gasped a reproachful, "Conner!" Then he was laughing too hard to say anything else.

When they'd *finally* gotten control of themselves again, Tim wiped his eyes and said, "You left the picnic basket upstairs, right?" Kon nodded. "Let's go up and eat lunch. I can show you more later."

Kon nodded again, and Tim put out the lantern and started to climb the stairs. Kon was proud of himself for remembering to make them squeak, this time.

* * *

Tim closed his locker and started down the hall, stopping short just as he was about to turn the corner.

"--do you hang out with that creepy little freak, anyway?"

"What?" Conner's voice came through clearly, startled, but with an overtone of anger. "You're not talking about Tim, are you?"

"Of *course* I'm talking about him!" Her voice was recognizable, one of the prettier cheerleaders, who Conner had started hitting on from the moment he'd first shown up at school. She hadn't given him the time of day at first - Tim knew from personal experience exactly how welcoming Smallville High students _weren't_ to newcomers - but lately she'd been thawing toward him, possibly because he'd been cooling toward her. "Ugh, just because his family's rich, he thinks he's better than *everyone*. Little know-it-all."

Pulling his books a little closer to his chest, Tim waited for Conner's inevitable agreement. After several moments, though, he heard something that almost made him drop everything in surprise. "You don't even *know* him," said Conner, and he sounded *mad*. "Tim is a great guy. There's a lot more to the world than Smallville High, y'know. God, just because he doesn't play _football_ or go after every girl on the cheerleading team..." He snorted. "All anyone cares about in this place is scoring and _scoring_."

"Oh yeah? What's so great about him?" The girl's voice was breathless and shrill.

There was the sound of Conner's exasperated sigh and a locker door slamming shut. "I can't believe no one but me and Ma and Pa can _see_ it. It's like this whole freaking town is _blind_." The girl made an indignant noise, but Conner went on, "Tim's gonna change the world someday. Tim's gonna *be* somebody."

The girl didn't speak for a minute. Tim figured she was stunned. He understood the feeling, standing frozen to the spot, clutching his textbooks so hard that his arms were starting to cramp.

"You think you're so hot, Conner Kent, but who're *you* gonna be?" came the voice at last.

Conner laughed. "I'm gonna be somebody, too." There was an easy confidence to the way he said it.

"You two deserve each other," said the girl, a sneer in her voice. "He's all brain and you're all brawn."

"Whatever," and Tim could picture him rolling his eyes. "Tim's my *friend*. If you're gonna talk shit about him, don't do it around me."

The girl started to say something else, but Tim didn't hear a word of it. Moments later Conner rounded the corner and stopped abruptly as they came face-to-face.

Tim felt like his face was burning. "Um..."

Conner blinked at him, his eyes widening. "Oh shit," he said, color rushing into his own cheeks.

Tim looked down, biting his lip, and neither of them said anything for what seemed like an eternity. Then Tim swallowed and said, "You...want to get some ice cream on the way home from school? My treat."

Conner grinned. "Sounds good," he said, sounding relieved. "They've got a new flavor, you know," he went on. "Banana-chocolate-something-or-other."

Tim made a face and started down the hall. Conner fell into step beside him. "Sounds disgusting."

"Unlike you, I am a deep and complex person," said Conner. "We can't all be plain-vanilla types, Tim," he added in a voice of pity.

"Hm. Some might suggest that you're _compensating_ for a _lack_ of complexity," Tim said thoughtfully.

Conner just laughed and followed him out the school doors.

  
_"You Two Deserve Each Other" by[faraway-hills](http://faraway-hills.livejournal.com/17251.html#cutid1). Please do not re-post without the artist's permission!_

* * *

Kon bit into the last cookie and sighed with contentment as he stretched out on his stomach on the picnic blanket, feeling the sun soaking into him. "Aunt Martha," he said succinctly, " _rocks_."

Tim crossed his arms behind his head and stared up at the sky. "She's the *best*," he said. "You're really lucky."

"Yeah," said Kon. "I know." He folded his arms under his chin. "I totally thought it was going to *suck*, coming here. But between Ma and you, it's actually been pretty great."

Tim was quiet for a long time. Finally he spoke. "Thanks," he said in a weird voice. Kon turned his head to look at him, but Tim had his eyes closed. "I'm sorry I was a jerk to you," Tim said, almost in a whisper, "When you came here."

Kon watched him. His eyes flickered open, and he glanced sideways at Kon for a moment before closing them again. "It's cool," said Kon. He should leave it there, he thought. But..."What was up with that, anyway?" he found himself asking.

Tim's lips twisted into a bitter smile. "I figured. I figured that Ma and Pa wouldn't want me around anymore if you were there. Especially after you started doing all the chores that I used to do."

Kon's eyes widened. "Tim!" he said reproachfully. "You didn't really think that!"

Tim's smile became less bitter and more rueful. "I did," he admitted.

"Dude! How can you be so smart but so _dumb_?" asked Kon in disbelief.

Tim just shrugged. "When I talked to Ma about it, she set me straight," he said.

"Yeah, I'll *bet*," said Kon. "Did she smack you upside the head, too? 'cause she *should've*."

"No." Tim turned his head, and his smile was neither bitter nor self-deprecating. "But I agree. She should have."

Kon reached over and gave Tim a tap on the side of his head. "There. Remember that next time you feel like being an _idiot_."

Tim looked up at the sky again, his eyes following the clouds. "I know you've got them under control," he said awkwardly, "but if you ever want help with the chores, you can give me a call," he said.

"If you wanna come over at the ass-crack of dawn and milk the cows, I'd be totally cool with that," said Kon jokingly.

"I used to do the morning chores," said Tim, "Whenever I stayed over."

Kon blinked. "You stayed over?"

"Yeah, sometimes. I mean, my parents were out of town, and I figured Ma and Pa could use the help, so," Tim shrugged.

"You slept on the couch?"

Tim snorted. "Like Ma would have put me on the couch if she didn't have to. I slept in your room, of course."

"*My* room?" Kon wasn't sure why the idea startled him so much. "In *my* bed?"

Tim rolled his eyes. "I don't have *cooties*, Conner. And even if I did, I know for a fact that Ma changed the sheets," he added dryly.

"I know, man, it's just. It's weird, okay?"

Tim looked at him. "Why?"

"I don't _know!_ "

" _Now_ who's being the idiot?"

Kon grinned in acknowledgment and let it drop.

It was awhile before either of them spoke again. "How old were you when you moved here from Gotham?" asked Kon idly.

"Nine," said Tim sleepily. "I'll never forget the day my dad told us we were moving. The news had had these teasers all day: a security camera had caught *actual footage* of Batman and Robin! I was so excited. I raced through my dinner and sat down in front of the TV, watching all the other stupid news stories. And *just* as they were about to show it, my dad came in and turned it off and said, 'We have something important to tell you, son.' I was so mad."

"What an asshole," said Kon comfortably.

"He wouldn't turn it back on, either. Turned out some guy had sold him this land really cheap," Tim went on. "They thought the cost of living would be lower here, and Dad wanted a 'safer' place for me to grow up." Kon nodded. "So they built the house and we moved out here. God, it sucked at first. All the kids at school *hated* me. Everyone knew my parents were the richest people in town. I was on my own a lot...I used to just take these long walks around, and one time I ran into Pa. The truck had broken down, and he was carrying some stuff back to the farm. I offered to help him carry some of it, and he took me up on it. When we got back, Ma fed me cookies and milk. I remember sitting in the kitchen, feeling like I never wanted to leave--" He stopped abruptly, color coming into his cheeks. "Anyway, so I stuck around; asked if I could help out."

Kon nodded. They lay in companionable silence for another few minutes, letting Ma's good picnic lunch settle. "You know, if you ever want to come and spend the night, you can," said Kon. "We could have a sleepover. It would be totally bitchin'."

Tim's blush, which had been fading, darkened again. "Sounds like fun," he said. "But you just want to get out of doing the morning chores, right?"

"Yup," said Kon, knowing that Tim would know he didn't mean it.

Tim laughed and bopped him on the side of the head. "Idiot," he said fondly.

~End of Year One: Spring~


	3. Year One: "Taking Root", Summer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When he was nine years old, young Timothy Drake's family decided to move to a small town in Kansas...
> 
>  
> 
> _"You- you *did* it!" Tim was staring up at him, his cheeks flushed and his eyes shining. "That's so cool!"_
> 
> _Kon grinned back and wondered what Tim would say if Kon took him flying for real._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word Count this chapter: 6848 words  
> Rating, this chapter: NC-17  
> Thank you to everyone who's commented and told me that they're eagerly waiting for the next part. You guys really do keep me going.  
> Warning for this chapter: Masturbation

The first time Tim noticed it was after dinner at the farm one night.

He started to clear the table, and Conner unexpectedly jumped up to help, the end result being that Tim found himself face-to-flannel against Conner's chest as they almost collided.

They both took a step back, but not before Tim got a nosefull. Conner smelled like fabric softener, and sunshine, and...something else. Tim sniffed, frowning.

"Are you wearing...cologne?" he asked as he carried a stack of plates to the sink.

" _Cologne?_ Uh, *no*," said Conner, looking slightly affronted.

"Oh. You--" Tim caught himself before he said ' _You smell good_ ', and said instead, "You want to wash or dry?"

"I'll wash," said Conner. He always picked washing, which Tim appreciated, since he preferred to dry. Besides, Conner was better at scrubbing the really stubborn casserole dishes - sometimes it seemed like all he had to do was touch them and the food would just fall off.

As he carefully swiped the dishtowel over the old plates with their pattern of blue flowers, Tim breathed deeply. The lemon smell of the dishwashing soap was dominant, overwhelming everything else, but when Tim moved a little closer to Conner, he thought he caught a whiff of the same thing he'd smelled before.

What *was* it? Tim frowned as he automatically put the plates away, wiped out the glasses, and sorted the silverware into its drawer. It was kind of like cinnamon, except for how it completely wasn't--

He yelped as Conner poked him in the side. "Dude, what's with you? Ma said three times that Jeopardy's coming on, and you're just standing there."

Tim shook himself. "Sorry," he said.

Ma was darning socks tonight, so she didn't need him to hold her yarn. Tim sat down on the worn, old couch, crossing his feet under him (none of them wore shoes in the house, of course). Conner plopped down next to him, and Tim scooted slightly closer to him, breathing deeply--

There it was. It was fresher than cinnamon, more like pine or cedar or something...no, it had a hint of musk, a living, animal smell, but a pleasant one.

"Tim?" He blinked and realized that Ma, Pa, and Conner were looking at him in concern. "Are you okay, hon?" asked Ma. Tim realized that he'd missed the first several questions in Jeopardy as he stared off into space and tried to decipher that smell.

"I'm fine, Ma," he said, embarrassed. "Just distracted."

"He was totally out of it while we were washing the dishes, too," said Conner in a voice of concern.

"I'm _fine_ ," said Tim irritably, concentrating on the television as the Daily Double came on and doing his best to ignore the occasional tantalizing trace in the air when Conner shifted next to him.

* * *

"Conner?" Tim's voice sounded oddly thin through the phone. "I won't be able to come over today."

"Aw, man! But the new Wendy movie comes out today!"

"I know, Conner, but-" Tim interrupted himself with a fit of coughing. "I'm sick," he said when he came back to the phone. "You should go see it without me."

Kon scowled. "But we've been planning this for like, a month!"

"I didn't plan on getting sick, Conner-" he started coughing again. "Look, just go without me, okay? I should wait until I've seen the rest of the series anyway."

"I *told* you, that won't matter," said Kon. "The movie is a prequel-"

"I have a fever, Conner. I'm sorry."

Kon sighed. "No, it's cool. You can't help that you're sick."

Ma looked up, a worried expression on her face. "Tim's sick?" she whispered.

Kon nodded and put his hand over the receiver. "He's got a fever," he whispered back.

"Believe me, I'd rather not be. Listen, don't tell Ma and Pa, okay?"

"Uh...why not?" said Kon, glancing guiltily at Ma.

"They'll try to take care of me, and I don't want to get them sick."

"Um..." Kon glanced at Ma again. She raised her eyebrows at him, put one hand on her hip and held out the other in a silent demand. He hesitated, then said sheepishly, "I kind of already didandshewantstotalktoyou. Sorry, dude." He handed the phone to Ma.

"Tim?" she said. Kon stretched his hearing to pick up Tim's side of the conversation.

"Ma?" coughed Tim.

"What have you got, hon?"

"It's just a cold, Ma. I'll be fine in a day or two. Take Conner to see that movie, okay?"

"Do you have a fever?"

"Just...uh...just a small one."

"What's your temperature?"

Tim sighed. "I'm *fine*, Ma. I'm just going to stay in bed and drink lots of liquids. You don't need to worry about me, okay?"

"Tim." There was no mistaking *that* tone.

"Ma, I really don't want to get you guys sick."

"Timothy Jackson Drake." Kon bit his tongue to keep from laughing.

Tim's voice sounded defeated. "One-hundred and three degrees."

Ma nodded, frowning. "I thought so. I'm having Pa come pick you up."

" _Ma_ , I told you-"

"Try to get some rest, Tim. Pa'll be there soon." She hung up. Her eyes were distant as she muttered to herself. "Pa can butcher that old dumpy hen when he gets back, she's hardly laying at all anymore..."

"Ma?" said Conner, and she looked at him distractedly.

"Oh, Conner, could you pull some carrots, please?"

"Sure, Ma." He went out and pulled a bunch, rinsing them off at the tap next to the door before taking them back inside. Ma was putting water into a large saucepan.

"Is a hundred and three a bad fever, Ma?" asked Kon.

"It's a bit on the high side," admitted Ma as she placed the pan on the stove.

Kon heard the truck starting up. "I'm going on ahead," he said, and zipped out the door before Ma could respond.

* * *

When he heard the tell-tale beep of the security being disabled downstairs, Tim grimaced. He never should have given Conner a key and showed him how to turn off the alarm.

What seemed like only moments later, there came a knock at his bedroom door.

"Go away," he said, trying not to sound as stuffed-up as he was. "I'm fine."

The door swung open, revealing a grinning Conner. Tim watched the grin catch and fade as Conner looked him over. "Hey," said Conner. "I'm taking you back to the farm."

Tim closed his eyes and shook his head. "I don't want to get you sick. I don't want to get *them* sick. At their age it's dangerous-"

"Sorry, Tim. Ma's orders." Conner got a strange look on his face for a moment - for all the world like he was *listening*. Then he glanced around the room. "Anything you want to bring with you?"

Tim glared at him. "What are you going to do, kidnap me?"

"Yup." Leaning down, Conner pulled back the covers and slipped one arm under Tim's back and the other under his knees.

"I can *walk*," said Tim, embarrassed. "I'm not an invalid, dammit!" He struggled weakly.

"But why walk if you don't have to?" Conner tightened his grip slightly. "You might as well give up, I'm not putting you down."

Tim stopped struggling and sighed, closing his eyes and accepting the inevitable. "Wish my nose wasn't stuffed up," he muttered, leaning his head against Conner's chest.

"Ma'll know what to do." Conner cocked his head again, then began to walk down the three flights of stairs at a sedate pace.

Pa met them at the door. Tim scowled at him and Conner and the world in general, but there was little he could do.

[](http://misszilla.livejournal.com/6153.html?thread=13577#t13577)   
_"You're Sick, You Idiot" by[misszilla](http://misszilla.livejournal.com/6153.html?thread=13577#t13577). Please do not re-post without the artist's permission._

* * *

Tim had struggled, and grumbled, and fretted, but eventually they got him situated in Kon's bed, much to Tim's annoyance. He complained bitterly that he would get Kon sick.

"If I get sick, then you can take care of me, deal?" he said, even if there was no *way* he was gonna catch any human diseases, not with his super-tough Kryptonian genes overwhelming Westfield's lame DNA.

But it worked. Tim looked up at him solemnly and nodded. "All right," he croaked. Ma bustled in a moment later. "Ma, you shouldn't _be_ here!"

"Dude, are you always this much of a pain in the ass when you're sick?" asked Kon impatiently.

"Pa's even worse, you know," said Ma as she popped a thermometer into Tim's mouth.

"Really?" said Kon, startled. Tim nodded and Ma laughed.

"Conner, no one on God's green earth is worse than Pa Kent when he's got the flu." She took out the thermometer after a minute or two and peered at the thin glass tube through her bifocals. "Your fever's gone down a little, Tim. I won't stick you in the tub just yet."

"I'm *fine*," groused Tim. "And didn't I get you a digital thermometer?"

Ma stroked his forehead. "The batteries burned out. You try and get some sleep," she said gently. "Conner and I will be downstairs. We'll hear you if you call."

"Yes, Ma," said Tim tiredly. He shifted under the blankets, his eyes falling shut.

* * *

Tim woke with a start, feeling strange and disoriented until he blinked and took stock. He was at the farm. He was in Clark's bed - _Conner's_ bed. He'd been sick...was still sick, though he could actually breathe now. Breathing was nice. He had to go to the bathroom. Dragging himself up, he stumbled down the hall, vaguely wondering if Conner was on the couch downstairs.

It wasn't until he was washing his hands that he realized - _now was his chance_. He shut off the water and silently went to the bathtub, picking up the shampoo and unscrewing the cap. The scent was generic and slightly chemical. Tim tried the conditioner next, but was disappointed to find that it was a mild citrus odor, not unpleasant, but not at all what he was looking for.

The soap was just Dial; nothing there. Tim opened the medicine cabinet. It squeaked loudly and he froze, his heart beating double time, but the house remained quiet. After a minute he pulled out the deodorant, tugged off the top, and sniffed it. No, that wasn't it either. Nor was the brand-new bottle of shaving cream. It had a mildly spicy scent, but not the *right* spicy scent.

Tim replaced the bottles and closed the medicine cabinet (slowly, so it wouldn't squeak this time), and blew out a breath in frustration. Making his way back to the darkness of the room, he sat down on the bed and thought.

A new idea occurred to him, and he stilled, listening. The house was as quiet as ever, though the crickets and cicadas were making quite a racket outside. Sometimes Tim wondered how people could characterize the country as 'quiet'.

His hand twitched. He shouldn't do it...but he had to *know*. Moving slowly, he reached for the drawer in Conner's bedside table and silently slid it open. This would be easier if he had the light on, but...somehow, in the dark, it seemed like he'd have some kind of plausible deniability.

His hand brushed across books...magazines?...and other random paraphernalia. He thought that was a pack of gum, and, yes, a chocolate bar. He pressed his lips together and shoved his hand further into the back of the drawer. It closed around a smooth bottle, and he grinned in triumph. This *had* to be it.

Opening the cap, he took a whiff - then almost dropped the bottle in disappointment. He recognized the smell. It was the same hand lotion his mother used, and, okay, *that* was a thought he really didn't need. He closed the bottle and shoved it back into the drawer.

He was tired, he realized. He should probably go back to sleep. Lying back, he pulled the covers over himself, the sheets soft against his skin, the pillow...

 _There_. Tim buried his face in the pillow and _smelled_. Oh god, that was it, that hint of spice and wood and musk that he couldn't seem to get enough of. God, what if it wasn't something he wore? What if it was just...Conner?

Tim snuggled down into the bed, wrapping the sheets and quilt around himself, and closed his eyes. And breathed deep.

* * *

Kon folded his hands behind his head and stared at the ceiling. It was kind of nice to be back in his own bed again. Not that it wasn't *awesome* having his own space in the loft in the barn, because it *was*. But he'd kind of gotten used to this bed, at least enough to miss it.

It was late, or early, really. Ma and Pa were asleep, Tim was probably asleep in his own bed back home. Sometime it would be cool if Tim stayed over when he *wasn't* sick. They could stay in the loft in the barn, hang out...it would be fun.

Idly, he touched the bedside table, using his TTK to silently slide the drawer open before reaching inside.

As pulled out his bottle of lotion, something niggled at the back of his mind. The drawer was in disarray as usual, but something seemed...off, somehow. Like the lotion wasn't quite where it was supposed to be, where he _always_ left it...

Shrugging, he popped open the cap. Ma wouldn't have gone through the drawer. Maybe Tim had been looking for something and had shifted things around.

He dumped the lotion on his fingers. A thought pushed the bedcovers away, another slid his pajama pants and underwear off, leaving him naked, half-hard and hungry. He wrapped his slick hand around himself and just let his thoughts drift...

_Robin swung by, bright and confident, before Cassie swooped down and wrapped her strong arms around him. Anita, dark and nude, the flickering firelight gleaming off her skin. Bart's hand, vibrating on his dick, back when it was just the two of them camping out in their first Headquarters. Tana...no, he wasn't going to think about Tana._

_Wendy, with her crossbow in her hand, except there was that one episode where she'd gotten captured and tied up, and Kon could rescue her and kick some werewolf *ass* while he was at it, and she'd be so grateful she'd kiss him...he needed to watch that episode again, now that he had the DVDs, thanks to Tim..._

Tim slept here.

The thought came out of nowhere, slamming into his brain with sudden, stunning force and ripping him away from the fantasy.

Tim _slept_ here. Not just the past few days, not just when he'd been sick, but before Kon even came to the farm, Tim used to sleep _here_. Right here, in *this* bed.

And Kon couldn't help but wonder: what if he'd...?

For a moment, Kon was paralyzed. Then he grinned at himself and shook his head. Tim would never do anything like _that_ in Ma and Pa's house, Kon was pretty sure.

But then another idea struck him.

Tim would never do it but...but what if he'd had a *dream*? Woken up in the middle of the night, hard and *wanting*? Kon shifted a little and gasped as the bed creaked. Maybe Tim would reach out, brush his hand over the cool plaster wall. Slide his other hand down, maybe cup himself through his pajamas. Kon squeezed himself and shivered.

Tim would...he'd bite his lip. Fist one hand in the quilt, in the sheets, _these_ sheets, worn soft and thin from a thousand washings. He's be so *careful*, so scared of getting caught. Until it got so good that he couldn't _help_ himself. Until he was writhing, shuddering, his hips jerking up again and again...

Would he do it slow? Try to be quiet? Or would he be fast, just wanting to get it *over* with...maybe he'd start slow, and get faster and faster as his control started to slip. Kon's own hand moved faster, pulling with quick, sharp motions as he panted into the darkness.

God, what would it be like to *touch* him? To wrap his hand around Tim and watch him just...lose it. To *make* him lose it, with his hands, his _mouth_ on Tim...he could make Tim shout, Kon thought. He _knew_ he could. He *wanted* to. Wanted to go back to that Tim of the past and just push him down on the bed and _suck_ him. To feel Tim's fingers buried in his hair as he thrust up into Kon's mouth, hear him moaning Kon's name, his *real* name, as he arched and screamed and _came_ \--

Kon bucked, slamming into up his fist and then down, *hard*, gasping and gritting his teeth as he spasmed and spilled over his hand, as he arched and shook, and--

*CRACK*

Blinking, Kon sucked in air, trying to figure out what had just happened. He shifted, and--

Fuck.

*Fuck*.

He'd broken the bed.

He'd broken *Clark's* bed and - oh fuck. Moving as fast as he ever had, he grabbed some tissues and cleaned himself up, tugged his pajamas back on and the quilt back into place. A minute or so later, as he lay and stared up at the ceiling, still feeling rather *stunned*, there was a knock at his door.

Kon jumped several feet in the air.

"Conner?" Ma's voice came through the door. "Are you all right, hon? We heard something..."

It took several seconds to make his voice work. "I'm...I'm fine, Ma!" he called, hoping it sounded convincing. "I just, uh. I was. I...I, the bed." Inspiration hit. "I was having a nightmare! And, uh, I broke the bed. I'm sorry, Ma."

There was silence on the other side of the door for a long, excruciating moment, then Ma said, "Well, don't worry about it now. We'll take care of it tomorrow. If you need to, you can sleep in the loft, right?"

"Uh...yeah. But I'm fine," said Kon, wondering if he was imagining the distinct note of laughter that seemed to tremble under her voice. "I'll be fine." There was no way he was actually *sleeping* any more tonight, anyway.

"All right, dear. Pa and I are going to try to get some sleep."

"Right. 'kay, Ma. I'm sorry I woke you." Oh god, was he sorry.

"It's all right, dear. Clark went through several beds when he was a teenager."

Kon blinked. "He _did_?" he said before he could stop himself.

"Yes, dear. Desk chairs, too. I think he broke four chairs in just the year he turned sixteen alone." Kon squeezed his eyes shut and desperately wished she hadn't told him that.

" _Ma_ ," he said reproachfully.

"Growing boys need sturdy furniture," she said, and she was *definitely* laughing at him. Kon buried his face in his pillow. "Good night, Conner."

He lifted his head for a moment. "Good night, Ma," he said, before letting it drop again and pulling the quilt over his head for good measure.

* * *

Tim knew Conner hadn't meant it literally when he'd invited Tim to come and help with the morning chores. He didn't let that stop him, though. He usually woke before the sun anyway, perhaps in part because he had little reason to stay up late. When summer came around, most mornings were just marking time until he could go over to the farm anyway.

Besides, Tim missed helping with the chores. He was losing some of the strength he'd built pitching hay and carrying feed, and he wanted it back. So one day Tim walked over to the farm under a dim, pre-dawn sky, let himself in with the key Ma had given him, picked up a basket and headed out to the chicken coop.

By the time Conner stumbled sleepily downstairs awhile later, Tim had a pot of coffee brewing. Conner blinked at Tim and the basket of eggs on the table. "What are you doing here?" he asked groggily.

Tim shrugged. "I woke up early," he said diffidently, "and thought I'd help out with the morning chores. Cows are milked."

Conner smiled tiredly at him. "Awesome. Thanks, man," he said.

Tim felt a warmth in his chest. "You okay?" he said.

With a nod, Conner grabbed a mug from the cupboard and filled it with coffee. "Yeah. Just...woke up in the middle of the night, that's all."

"Nightmares?" said Tim sympathetically.

Conner grinned sheepishly into his mug. "Not really. Just...couldn't sleep."

Tim opened his mouth to reply, but at that moment Ma came into the kitchen. "Good morning, boys," she said. "Tim, I hope you haven't eaten yet."

"No, Ma."

"Good. Why don't you help me get breakfast ready?"

The rest of the morning passed uneventfully, with breakfast, and chores, and ordinary conversation, until Tim went to take some socks Ma had darned up to Conner's room. He was already up the stairs and had his hand on the door when Conner called up, "Tim, wait!"

Tim paused. "What's wrong?"

"Uh...it's messy in there."

Chuckling, Tim said, "When is it *not*, Conner?" and finished pushing open the door. He took a step inside the room and stopped short, staring. Conner's bed sat along one wall, bowing oddly in the middle. Tim frowned and crossed the room to examine it - by the looks of it, the frame and box spring were *both* broken across the middle. How...?

Suddenly Tim's frown transformed into a grin as comprehension spread across his features. Oh, was he going to tease Conner about *this*! He turned around to find his friend standing in the doorway, _blushing_. Tim raised an eyebrow at him.

"Conner," he said reproachfully.

"Uh-" said Conner, his face getting even redder.

"...You were *jumping on the _bed_ *? What are you, *three*?"

Conner's mouth fell open a little, and if Tim hadn't known better, he would have said that a quick look of relief passed across his features before they settled into an expression of chagrin. "Uh...well...yeah, actually," he said, passing a hand over his head.

Tim laughed. "No wonder you couldn't sleep last night!" said Tim, "With a broken bed!" After a minute, Conner started to laugh with him.

* * *

The first time Kon saw Tim driving away in the beat-up old pick-up truck, he was startled. "I thought Tim was too young to drive?" he'd asked Ma.

"We helped him get his Farm Permit," she replied. "He asked Pa to teach him to drive, and then when Pa strained his knee awhile back and couldn't work the clutch, Tim asked us to help him get his permit." She chuckled and shook her head. "Technically, a Farm Permit's for a kid who lives at or works on a farm, so we offered to pay him," she said. "He agreed, and then proceeded to put the money right back in the sugar jar when we weren't looking."

Kon laughed. "Sounds like Tim," he'd said.

Now he was used to seeing Tim drive off in the truck and come back awhile later, the bed filled with sacks of feed or other things they needed. So when Tim pulled into the drive, Kon barely looked up from the weeds he was pulling. Tim disappeared into the house, then came out again, looked around, and grinned as his eyes fell on Kon.

"Hey, Conner," he said casually. "Come give me a hand with this."

Kon nodded and got up, brushing the excess soil off his hands. "Lemme wash up first," he said, bending over the spigot next to the porch. "What'd you get?"

Tim looked smug. "Remembered something I had in our garage," he said. "Something I never set up or used. I thought I'd bring it over so you could check it out."

Kon blinked and shook his hands dry. "Okaaay," he said. "What is it?"

"Come and see." Tim led the way to the truck, where a long box barely fit into the bed. "15' Round Trampoline" was emblazoned on the side. Kon frowned, confused, and turned to Tim. Tim raised an eyebrow at him.

"Aren't you only supposed to use a Farm Permit for farm-related driving?" said Kon.

Tim's expression became one of wounded innocence. "This *is* for the farm," he said. "Pa's time is valuable. If only you'd had a trampoline to jump on, he wouldn't have had to build you that new bedframe-"

"Shut up," growled Kon, blushing.

Tim laughed. "C'mon, let's set it up," he said.

It wasn't hard, and between the two of them, they had it put up in no time. "How long have you had this thing?" Kon asked, noting that the box seemed suspiciously clean and dust-free for something that had been stored in a garage.

Tim shrugged. "I don't remember. My parents knew I was interested in gymnastics, so. But I never bothered to set it up." He kicked off his boots and clambered onto the thing, taking a few experimental bounces before jumping as high as he could. "It's pretty fun, Conner! Come and try it!"

Kon waited until Tim had gotten down before climbing up for his turn. He jumped and tried to let himself fall naturally, though it was unexpectedly hard and he ended up on his back the first time. Tim giggled. It took a few tries, but eventually Kon got the hang of dropping his aura enough to let gravity pull him down and allowing the trampoline to push him back up again. "Your turn," he said to Tim after a few minutes.

"A _real_ gymnast can do tricks," said Tim as he flew into the air and back again. "They can jump from their feet to their hands and," he panted, "Do somersaults!"

"I could do a somersault," said Kon.

"You could _not_ ," said Tim. "Not without a lot of practice, and you'd probably hurt yourself if you tried without someone teaching you the proper way to do it."

"I could do it," said Kon stubbornly.

Tim looked alarmed. "Conner, I didn't bring this over here so you could break your neck," he said.

"Nah, I know. You brought it over to tease me," said Kon. "But I can totally do a somersault. Here, let me up and I'll show you."

"Conner, *no*," said Tim. "You really could break an arm or a leg or-"

Kon knew he'd be far more likely to break the *trampoline*, but he couldn't tell Tim that. "Tim," he said, "I can do this. Trust me."

Tim stopped and stared at him for a minute, then gave a nod and, without another word, got off the trampoline.

After climbing up, Kon did some practice jumps, getting a feel for the thing. His jumps took him higher and higher, and he had to really concentrate not to just spring into the air and *fly*. Finally he tucked his legs under him and threw his body into a roll.

The first time he had to cheat a little, using TTK to slow his fall a tiny bit, just enough to untuck his legs in time, and he still landed on his knees. The second time he tried not to use TTK at all, and he probably *would* have broken his neck if he wasn't Super.

The third time he did it perfectly, tucking his body into a forward roll and untucking it just in time to land on his feet and spring into the air once more. He laughed and did it again.

"You- you *did* it!" Tim was staring up at him, his cheeks flushed and his eyes shining. "That's so _cool_!"

Kon grinned back and wondered what Tim would say if Kon took him flying for _real_.

* * *

You leave someone alone for a *minute*...

Tim folded his arms across his chest. "What are you doing?" he asked, trying to sound stern.

It must not have worked, though, because Conner looked up at him and grinned unrepentantly. "I was looking for your porn, but I found _this_ instead," he said, holding up Tim's scrapbook of all things Dick Grayson. "You freaky little celebrity stalker, you."

Tim shrugged nonchalantly. "It's just...a collection. Something I did when I was a kid. You'll notice that the last article in there is from several years ago." Conner turned to the end and skimmed over the final page, then looked up at Tim again. Tim tried to look annoyed and bored, rather than horrifically embarrassed. He'd thought that drawer was *locked*.

Conner's eyes narrowed. Finally he spoke. "Bullshit."

Taken aback, Tim said, "I beg your pardon?"

Conner smirked at him. "You totally still collect stuff about him, don't you? I'll bet you just scan it in to your computer now. You've got some triple-encrypted, passworded file on there with all the newer articles in it, don't you?"

Tim couldn't quite stop his eyes from going wide. "I--No! Of course not!" he said, far too vehemently.

"Mm- _hmm_ ," said Conner, and paged back through the scrapbook again. "So did he marry this hot bimbo supermodel or what?"

Tim couldn't even _speak_ for a moment. Then, "She's *not* a bimbo! Kory Anders is a super _hero_ ," he said furiously. "She...she's not even from this *planet*, she's not even _human_ , but she's out there, risking her life for others...she's dedicated her life to helping people!" He snatched the book away from Conner, who seemed stunned. "You don't know what you're talking about! You don't know *anything*!" he raged.

Conner just stared at him, wide-eyed. He opened his mouth. "But I... _I'm_ \--" he stopped, looking frustrated, closing his mouth with a snap and clenching his hands into fists for a moment. Glared at the wall. "Dammit," he muttered. Then he relaxed again and looked at Tim and smiled ruefully. "I'm sorry, dude. You're right. I take it back."

Tim breathed hard for a minute, then gave Conner a quick nod and looked down at the scrapbook again, his outrage subsiding in the face of Conner's apparent sincerity. "Dick...everyone thinks he's just some spoiled, entitled brat, but he's _not_. Did you know he's working as a _policeman_ right now?" He touched Dick's face in one of the pictures. "He would never ask someone to marry him who wasn't...wasn't a good person. Like him."

"Huh," said Conner, and Tim looked up to find Conner watching him. "You're pretty gone on this guy, aren't you," he said casually.

Tim blinked. "What? I--No!" He felt his face heating again, but not from temper this time. "It's not like that!"

"No?" Conner raised an eyebrow at him. "Oh, 'your love for him is pure,' huh? So you're telling me you _don't_ think about 'Officer Grayson' when you jerk off?" he teased. "Maybe with his handcuffs?"

Tim knew his face must be _crimson_ by now. "I _have_ porn!" he objected. "It's under the bed!"

Conner looked at him skeptically, but leaned down and rooted around, eventually dragging out the three issues of Playboy. He took one look at them and started to laugh.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Nothing." Conner made a show of blowing the thick layer of dust off the cover, making Tim regret ever telling the maids to leave his room alone. Then Conner flipped open the magazine and a cologne insert fell out. "Nothing at all."

Now Tim felt the blood draining _out_ of his face. "I...It's...It's none of your _fucking_ business!" he burst out. Oh god, if Conner thought...if Conner _suspected_...

"Dude, chill--" Conner started to say, but Tim interrupted him.

"Look, I just...I don't...I don't want you to think I'm a _freak_ ," he said, and turned away, the scrapbook shaking in his hands.

Silence. Then Conner spoke, his voice amused and warm. "I already *know* you're a freak, Tim." He threw an arm around Tim's shoulders. "But I like you anyway. C'mon, put that thing away and let's go back to Ma and Pa's house. I'll bet that cake's almost done. Think she'll let us lick the beaters again when she makes the frosting?"

Taking a deep breath, Tim nodded. "I...I hope so," he said. Slipping out from under Conner's arm, he tucked the book back in its drawer in his desk - and *locked* it.

Looking up at his friend, he smiled. "Let's go," he said.

* * *

"Make a wish!" said Tim's mom cheerfully as she set the cake on the table. It was store-bought, with the five multi-colored Olympic rings on it. "I hope it's okay," she said. "You're a bit old for a Batman cake..."

"It's great, mom, thank you," said Tim. "They know I like to watch the Summer Olympics," he explained to Kon. Kon just nodded, and didn't point out that there weren't any Olympics this year.

"Make a wish, dude," he said instead. Tim nodded and closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them, took a deep breath, and blew out the candles. He wasn't going to make it, so Kon surreptitiously used his TTK to help put out the last two of the sixteen. Tim beamed. "Guess you'll get your wish," said Kon. "Gonna tell me what it was?"

"Nope," said Tim. His cheeks were red, probably from all that huffing and puffing. "Then it won't come true."

His mom set a carton of ice cream on the table and took out a knife to cut the cake. "Here you are, Tim," she said, handing him a slice. "And one for you, Conner." She smiled at him. "We're so glad you were able to come over at the last minute like this. Tim mentioned that his other friends had plans."

 _Other_ friends? Kon looked at Tim, who didn't meet his eye. "I didn't have any plans," said Kon. Actually, they were supposed to be at Ma and Pa's right now, eating homemade cake. But Ma had promised that they'd take a raincheck. "Thank you for inviting me," he added belatedly.

"Of course," she said graciously. "We've been after Tim to invite one of his friends over for dinner sometime when we're in town."

"It's really been a blessing in disguise that our flight was delayed," added Tim's father comfortably. "It means I can give you *this* in person!" He flourished an envelope before handing it to Tim.

Tim opened it carefully and took out a card. As he read it, his eyes widened. " _Really?_ " he said.

"I've already made arrangements with the dealership," said his father. "Any car on the lot is yours."

"Wow...Thanks, dad!" Tim grinned. "Maybe...maybe you could come and help me pick one out?"

His parents exchanged a look. "I'm not sure when we'll have the time," said his mom apologetically. "We're at a delicate stage in the negotiations right now and-"

"I understand," said Tim quickly. "It's all right."

"You don't want us crimping your style anyway, right, son?" said his dad. "Gotta pick out something that'll impress the chicks, right?"

"Yeah," said Tim. "You got it, dad." Kon stared at them. Tim's shoulders drooped. All the excitement seemed to have gone out of him, and his smile was completely *fake*...how could they not *notice*?

"Could I come with?" he asked, and watched Tim's face light up with genuine happiness again.

"Yeah! I'd really like that," said Tim.

 _It's a date_ , thought Kon, then gave himself a hard mental kick.

* * *

Tim smiled to himself as he walked down the dusty trail behind his house. It was too bad that Conner had been called away for another family emergency earlier that morning, but Tim didn't really mind. He had something of his own he wanted to do, something he'd been saving.

He reached the spot, an empty field on the border between their property and the Kents'. Most of their property was regularly tended by professional gardeners, but this area was left alone for some reason. When he'd been younger, Tim had liked to hide in the tall grass, pretending he was an explorer on an African veldt. He still liked to come there. He lay back among the sweet-smelling grasses, the sun warm on his face and the sky a brilliant, cloudless blue high above. They'd even gotten rain last week, enough that they wouldn't have to worry for awhile, so the sun didn't feel oppressive.

After a few minutes of lying back and staring drowsily at the sky, one arm under his head, Tim rolled over on his stomach and opened his backpack. He pulled out the carefully packed magazine, "Person" emblazoned across its cover in garish letters. Normally he'd never have touched the rag, but..."Exclusive interview with Dick Grayson inside!" was printed along one side of the cover in smaller, but still brightly-colored words, next to small, circular photo of Dick's face.

Tim stared at the picture for awhile, examining it, then carefully opened the cover and slowly began to turn the pages, scanning each for any mention of Dick's name. Finally, about two-thirds of the way in - past perfume inserts (he winced a little, remembering his embarrassment in front of Conner), advertisements, and insipid articles, he came to the interview.

_Dick Grayson is everyone's favorite rags-to-riches story. But is there more to this..._

Tim read the article from start to finish, absorbing every word. When he reached the end, he started from the beginning and read it again, and then a third time, this time focusing more on Dick's replies than the silly questions the interviewer asked. He looked at the photos, a big one of Dick in casual clothes, with an inset of him in his police uniform.

When he'd finished, Tim carefully paged through the rest of the magazine, then closed it with a sigh, set it aside, and rolled over onto his back again.

Dick was running a self-defense class for kids over in Bludhaven twice a week. If only...if _only_ they hadn't moved, Tim could have taken it. It wouldn't have been hard to get there, by bus or even by taxi, and his parents never would have had to know. Tim imagined watching Dick going through a fantastic routine, complete with backflips and spin-kicks. He imagined Dick's hands on him, showing what to do, how to move. He imagined impressing Dick, being the best student in the school, maybe Dick would take him on as an assistant, as a _partner_...

Tim laughed a little at himself, letting the day dream float away. If they'd never moved, he wouldn't have met Ma and Pa...he wouldn't have met *Conner*, and he couldn't imagine what his life would have been like. Besides, someday he would move back to Gotham, go to school there, break into the social scene, *something*. Someday he'd have to chance to meet Dick again, he *knew* he would.

Right now, though, he was, well. He was half-hard, which wasn't really a surprise. Reaching down, he pressed the heal of his hand against himself through his pants. It felt good, and he did it again.

Did Dick still practice his acrobatics at all? Was there a trapeze rigging set up somewhere in that huge mansion on the hill? He surely did *something* to keep in such wonderful shape. It would be such a shame if he didn't. He was so _beautiful_ that day...

In his mind's eye, Tim could see him again, turning somersaults across the summer sky...

...wait, what was _that_?

Something passed over Tim, a shadow. He squinted up at the sky, trying to shield his eyes from the glare of the early afternoon sun. Was it a plane? A bird? It didn't move like either. It was spiraling now, up and up, then down, a vague dark shape against the bright blue. As it got nearer, it resolved into a recognizable form. Though he was too far away to make out details, Tim got the impression of pale skin, dark hair, a black shirt with a large, red symbol on it, too far away to see clearly, but Tim knew what it *had* to be...

The figure spiraled up again, seeming to take joy in every movement, then flew away, disappearing from Tim's view.

It felt like an explosion in Tim's chest. Delight and awe surged through him all at once, making him gasp. A thousand tiny inconsistencies fell into place in a single moment, like one of those pictures made of dots that you couldn't see unless you looked at it *just* right...and then you couldn't *unsee*.

It didn't matter that he'd been too far away to make out the flier's face - Tim _knew_.

So much made *sense* now – like the way Conner always managed to get all the chores done so quickly. It _wasn't_ just because he was bigger and stronger. And whenever he went to visit his 'family'...oh, no _wonder_ Tim had never heard a car coming to pick him up or drop him off.

Tim couldn't stop grinning, couldn't stop his heart from pounding. Slowly, he sat up. The flying figure had disappeared in the direction of the Kent farm. Tim hugged his knees to his chest for a moment before standing up, slinging his backpack over one shoulder, and purposefully starting for home.

He had some online shopping to do.

~End of Year One: Summer~


	4. Year One: "Taking Root", Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Conner," said Tim again, helplessly. "I-"
> 
> "Dude, it's cool, I-" Conner made a spastic movement with his hands and the telescope toppled over. Both of them reached for it, Conner's hands closing around it first (of course, thought Tim) with Tim's over his.
> 
> Tim tightened his fingers for a moment before drawing them away, brushing them across the backs of Conner's hands in what was almost a caress. "Conner," he said for a third time. He had to stop this, had to defuse the situation, but Conner was looking at him with wide blue eyes and Tim couldn't do anything but swallow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word Count this chapter: 6989 words  
> Rating, this chapter: NC-17 this chapter  
> Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. I'm just playing with them.  
> Once again, thank you to all my friends and pre-readers. Special thanks to iesika, as always, the_protagonist, for her encouragement, and batstalker, without whom this might not have been finished in time.  
> Warnings: Sex.

"Admit it," said Kon, pushing open the school doors. "You think that teacher is a total-" He stopped short. "Clark?" he said. "What are you doing here?"

Clark smiled at him. "I came to talk to you," he said. "Want to get something to eat with me? I could use a cup of coffee..."

"Uh, sure." He glanced uncomfortably at his friend. "Uh, Tim-"

Tim had been looking intently at Clark, but now he turned to Kon and said, "I'll meet you back at the farm. I'm sure you guys have a lot to talk about."

"Yeah, okay." said Kon, relieved.

At the coffeeshop they slid into a booth by a window. Kon toyed with the dusty plastic daisy in its green vase, making its petals twitch and shiver with his TTK. He looked up to find Clark frowning at him and stopped.

After the waitress delivered their orders (coffee for Clark and blueberry pie for Kon), Clark pushed his glasses up on his nose and said, "So."

Kon waited.

"Ma tells me you're doing well in school," said Clark.

Kon shrugged. "Tim helps me a lot. He's really smart."

"I'm so glad you've made some friends here," Clark smiled, and Kon didn't have the heart to tell him he'd actually only made *one* friend, really. So instead he just shrugged again and waited for Clark to get to the point.

"I know you've been eager to get back to...your other work," continued Clark. Kon looked up, sudden hope flashing through him. Hanging with Tim was totally awesome, and Kon had started to almost kind of enjoy farm life. At first he'd thought Ma and Pa were just, well, _old_ , but listening to them talk with Tim and watching him with them, he'd started to realize how cool they were. For old people, of course.

But Kon *burned* to be out there, kicking ass and rescuing chicks and saving the universe again. It was what he was *born* to do. "Well, yeah," he said, trying to play it cool. "I mean, it's what we *do*, right? Fight for truth, justice and the American way? I mean...Smallville's great and all," Clark beamed, "But it's kind of a waste of my talents to be sitting in shop class and building a magazine rack, am I right?"

The smile dimmed. "Conner...there are good reasons for you to stay in school right now-"

Kon flapped his hand. "I get it! I get it!"

"All right. But - with the caveat that you'd still be going to school - how would you feel about being on a team again?"

Kon blinked. "A team? What kind of a team?"

Clark lowered his voice until Kon had to strain to hear him. "The Teen Titans. Vic Stone's putting together a new group-"

"You *do* remember what happened the *last* time all us sidekicks got together, right?" said Kon dryly. "Two people were *killed*. One of the original Titans...Donna _died_." He paused, staring down at the table, then added in a whisper, "And a girl I really like hates me for it."

"Conner..."

He looked up again, glaring into Clark's sympathetic blue eyes behind their stupid glass shields. "Besides, you and the JL will just be breathing down our necks the whole time." He waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. "No _thanks_."

"You'll have your privacy," said Clark quietly. "I promise you, the League won't get involved. And, like I said, you'll be able to stay in school, too. You'll be leaving every Friday night and flying back each Sunday night."

Kon snorted. "A *weekend* thing?" he said in disbelief. "Like the *Boy Scouts*? Whose lame idea was *that*?"

Clark just looked at him.

Kon rolled his eyes. "Of course. Well...let me think about it," he said, but he knew in his heart he couldn't say 'no'.

Now he just had to figure out what he was going to tell Tim.

God... _Tim._ Kon looked up at Clark again, but he was staring out the window and taking a drink of his coffee.

"Clark," started Kon, then stopped, frowning down at his plate. The pie wasn't as good as Ma's anyway. He poked at it with his fork, breaking the crust into little pieces.

"What is it, Conner?" asked Clark gently.

"I...I want to tell Tim," Kon burst out.

The warmth disappeared from Clark's face, leaving it as hard as though it had been carved from stone. "Absolutely not," he said.

"I *hate* lying to him!" said Kon. "He's my friend!"

"Conner," said Clark, his voice low and even, "Do you know just how long it took for me to tell *Lois*?"

"I know, I know, but...he could totally keep the secret!" said Kon miserably. "He would _never_ do anything that would-"

"Conner," said Clark again, this time with sympathy. "First of all, he's a teenage boy, and you've known him, what, a few months?"

"Longer than that," muttered Kon.

"Even if you trust him implicitly, you may find that he...might surprise you," said Clark, and there was a weird edge of bitterness to his tone. "But even if he's not the type to betray you, or try to impress some girl with your secret-" Kon snorted at that, "-even if he would never, ever give you away, there are still very good reasons for you not to tell him."

"Name one," said Kon defiantly.

Clark held his gaze as he took a long drink of his coffee. Then he put down his cup and said steadily, "Are you sure you would want to burden him like that, Conner?"

Kon frowned. "*Burden* him?"

"Yes. A secret like ours...it's a heavy responsibility to put on someone. It's also *dangerous*. The more he knows about you, the riskier it is for him. And the more people that know, the more dangerous it is for people like Ma and Pa and Lois, too." He looked at Kon pleadingly. "Please, Conner. I know it's difficult...you weren't raised to the secrecy like I was. But if certain people were to make the connection, you might as well sign Ma's and Pa's death warrants. And probably Tim's, too. They're so fragile, Conner. Please-"

He couldn't bear to see Clark begging like this. "I won't say anything," he sighed.

Clark's smile was like the sun coming out from behind the clouds. He reached across the table and put a hand on Conner's shoulder. "I knew I could count on you, Conner," he said.

Conner scowled down at the table. Instead being filled with pride, he felt vaguely ill, like there was kryptonite in the next building over or something. He pushed his plate away. "Yeah," he muttered. You can count on me."

* * * [](http://shinigrace.livejournal.com/7972.html)  
_"Research" by[shinigrace](http://shinigrace.livejournal.com/7972.html). Please do not re-post without the artist's permission._

Tim carefully set his coffee cup onto its coaster and began to type. It had taken him several weeks, but he'd finally done it, finally broken through the firewall and encryption to access the security system at Titans Tower in a way that couldn't be traced. Now would come the reward for his labor.

Drawing a deep breath, he tapped the key to initiate the program. After a moment his screen flickered and came to life with an image of the grounds just outside the Tower. He could clearly see the statue of the original Teen Titans catching the last rays of the setting sun - it was earlier on the West Coast than in Kansas, of course.

Hitting the spacebar, he rotated between camera views. The pool, deserted. Beast Boy was watching a movie with Kid Flash. Cyborg was in his lab, working on something. Wonder Girl was striding through a hallway, an angry look on her face. In the kitchen-

Tim stopped, his hand hovering over the key, and drew it back. Conner was sitting at the table with his head in his hands.

"Crap," muttered Conner. He sounded frustrated, and Tim wondered what was wrong. Suddenly, Conner looked up. "I know you're there," he said.

For a split-second, Tim's heart stopped in his chest. How did Conner *know*? Then a feminine laugh came from the shadows, and Tim was able to breathe again. Robin stepped into the light, tossing her long, blonde hair over her shoulder. "You're getting better at that," she said with a grin. Tim had never seen her so close before, in pictures or on TV.

Conner snorted. "I've started saying it whenever I'm in an empty room, now, whether I think you're there or not."

She laughed delightedly, the sound warm and free and open in Tim's ears, even through the microphones and a necessarily limited connection. Crossing the room, she sat down next to Conner at the table and sobered a little, though she was still smiling. Conner sighed. After a minute he said quietly, "I guess she hates me, now."

Tim wondered who 'she' was and turned up the volume to catch the soft words. Robin put a sympathetic hand on Conner's shoulder. "Not so Super-Wonderful, huh?" Conner just shook his head. "Conner, what happened? I thought you and Cassie were..." she trailed off significantly.

Conner and...Wonder Girl? Tim bit his lip, his eyes glued to the screen as Conner glared down at the table. "I dunno," he said finally. "I just don't...I just don't feel that way about her. I mean, she's awesome, and she's my friend...or, I guess, she *was* my friend."

Robin smiled a little. "She'll get over it," she said. " _We're_ still friends, aren't we? And remember the crush you used to have on *me*?" Tim felt himself gasp for air and realized he'd been holding his breath.

Conner's lips turned up in a reminiscent smile. "You were so awesome. We were such fuckups." Tim jumped a little at the unexpected profanity. "You came in and just made everything *work*. Made us *better*." Her hands rested on the table; he slid his over and covered them with his own. "You know that...if I ever thought...if there was even a *chance*..." Tim's stomach churned with sudden, bitter jealousy.

"Huh-uh," said Robin, sounding amused and a little sad. "We've been through that, SB." She turned her hands under his and squeezed for a moment before sliding them away. Mingled resentment and relief flowed through Tim. How could she turn him *down*? If Conner ever looked at *him* like that...He cut off the line of thought as Conner flushed and looked down at the table again.

"Anyway, Cassie's tough, you'll see," said Robin. Conner nodded silently. It was weird to see him so quiet, Tim thought. Robin squeezed his shoulder. "Hey," she said. "Is there...someone else? Some nice farm girl, maybe?" she said, watching him closely. Tim shook his head - Conner had made his opinion of the girls at Smallville High clear on more than one occasion.

But Conner's flush was deepening, and Robin's eyes narrowed. "Or maybe...not a girl?" Tim froze, eyes locked to the screen.

Conner liked boys?

Conner glared. "You Bats think you know everything," he said.

Robin gave a rueful laugh. "Sorry. It's a bad habit I picked up from Batman."

Conner snorted and pushed his chair back from the table. "I've got some homework to finish," he said. "I'd better get that done."

"Okay. I'm just going to finish these reports," she said She pulled something toward her and Tim realized it was a laptop as she opened it. "I'm here if you want to talk."

Conner smiled a little. "I know," he said. "Thanks, Steph."

Steph.

Robin's name was Steph.

Conner was in the doorway when she called back to him, "Hey, SB?"

He paused and looked back at her. "Yeah?"

"Who do you know named 'Snapdragon'?"

"Snapdragon?" Conner crossed the room again and peered at the screen over her shoulder. "What the heck?" Tim tried every camera angle in the room, but Conner's broad back blocked his view of the screen.

"Something's coming through," said Robin, and tapped at the keyboard. "It's...your DNA profile," she added, obviously puzzled. Tim, unable to get a good angle, switched to the front view of their faces again.

"Yeah, see? There's Superman," said Conner, looking pleased. She clicked something else and his expression changed. "Wait, that's not-"

"It's..." Robin frowned at the screen. "It's saying that *he's* your other genetic donor."

" _What_? No *way* is that true," said Conner. "It's a *joke*. A _sick_ joke." Tim desperately switched views again, but it was impossible. What were they seeing that was upsetting Conner so much?

Robin's face had gone very blank. "It should be simple enough to test, then-"

"No," said Conner abruptly. "There's no need. It's a _joke_ , Steph."

"A joke by someone smart enough to break *Batman's* encryption," started Robin gently, but Conner interrupted her.

"*Don't* tell anyone, okay? You won't, will you, Steph?"

"Conner-"

"It's just a stupid prank anyway. There's no need to worry everyone else. *Please*, Steph!"

Slowly, she nodded. "All right. I won't say anything."

He relaxed and smiled at her. "Thanks," he said. He shoved his hands in his pockets and said, "You're my...one of my best friends, you know that, right?"

Her eyebrows went up. "Got a new best friend?" she said teasingly.

Conner shuffled his feet. "There's a guy...he's really cool, Steph. Wish I could introduce you to him."

"As Robin or as your friend Stephanie, from Gotham?"

"As Stephanie," he said. "He doesn't know...he only knows me as Conner Kent." He paused. "His name's Tim."

The words sent an unexpected shock of warmth through Tim's body. He'd known that Conner must be talking about him, but having it confirmed made something in him burn and tighten with emotion.

She nodded. "I'd like to meet him. He must be an interesting guy."

"He *is*!" said Conner eagerly. "You'll like him, I just know it." Tim felt his face flushing and was glad Conner wasn't there to see it. Conner wanted to introduce him to *Robin*. Conner thought he was interesting.

Conner thought of Tim as his best friend. *One* of his best friends, Tim reminded himself.

"Anyway, I'd better get on that homework. 'night, Steph."

"Later, SB." Tim stared blankly at the screen, not even changing cameras to catch Conner in his room. Now that he wasn't blocking his view, Tim could see part of the monitor over Robin's shoulder, but she'd already closed whatever file they'd been looking at. Instead she appeared to be running a trace program on the Tower's security-

Crap! Tim hit the key that would disconnect him from the system quickly and invisibly.

The screen went black.

* * *

"I don't get it," said Kon.

"Don't get what?" asked Tim, looking over his shoulder as he backed out of the parking space, then smoothly shifting into second gear as he pulled onto the street.

"You just test-drove three different convertibles. And then you buy *this*? Don't get me wrong, man, it's a great truck, but...it's a pick-up truck. Not, you know, a _convertible_."

Tim's lips twitched into a smile. "The convertibles were fun, but what would I use one for?"

Kon shrugged. "I don't know, looking _cool_?"

"Not terribly practical," Tim pointed out.

"So?"

Tim pulled to a stop at a red light and glanced over at Kon. "I'll probably be leaving it at the farm most of the time anyway."

Kon's brows drew together in a puzzled frown. "What? Why would you do that?"

The light changed, and Tim didn't answer for a moment as he accelerated. Finally he said, "I could teach you to drive, if you like. Or...*do* you know how to drive?"

"Nah," said Kon. "I...uh...used to live on an island, y'know, and...anyway, that would be sweet! But what does it have to do with you leaving your car at the farm?"

Tim's hands tightened slightly on the steering wheel. "You know Pa got stranded the weekend before last? The truck broke down - again - and he didn't have the cell phone I gave him, so he walked two miles back. I was there when he came in." Tim turned onto the dirt road that would take them out to Ma and Pa's place. "He didn't look good, Conner."

"What do you mean, he didn't look good?"

"He was...winded. His face was _gray_. You know about his heart, right?"

Kon fiddled with the automatic door lock button. He'd heard Ma scolding Pa for not taking it easy, but he hadn't really thought about it. "I guess?"

Tim sighed. "Look. Next time the old truck won't start, make sure he takes mine, okay?"

Kon shook his head. "I don't think he will, man. He'd be afraid of messing it up, you know?"

"I know. That's why you're going to learn to drive it. If they see you driving around in it all the time, maybe it'll help."

"I don't know...I think he's gonna drive that old clunker until it croaks for good."

Tim's expression went very blank, like when he was quizzing Kon on something and trying not to give away when he got the answer right. "You never know. It might croak sooner than you think," he said.

Kon's eyes narrowed. "Wait. I thought it was still running okay a lot of the time? Just breaks down once in awhile, right?"

Tim nodded. "Currently, yes." He cut his eyes to Kon for a moment, then back to the road.

"And...if it stopped working altogether, they'd just buy a new truck," said Kon slowly.

"Of course." Tim gazed serenely at the road. "But I'm pretty handy. If it ever *did* break down, I could probably fix it, given some time. They might have to use mine while I worked on it, though." He pulled in to the farm's driveway and parked the new red truck next to the fence. Tugging the spare off the keyring, he tossed it to Kon. "Keep that for me, would you? Just in case," he said.

A grin spread across Kon's face as he turned the key over in his fingers. He met Tim's eyes. "You can count on me, man."

For a moment, Tim's face lit with a brief, glowing smile. "I know," he said.

* * *

It was both nice and deeply uncomfortable whenever Conner came over to have dinner with Tim and his parents. Nice because, of course, Tim was always happy to see Conner, and it got his parents off his back about introducing them to his friends. Uncomfortable because, well, his mom and dad would try to talk to Tim like they actually _knew_ him, and that was always embarrassing.

At least it was over, now. Tim finished washing his hands and ran up the stairs, hoping Conner hadn't been sniffing out his scrapbooks again.

He pushed open his door, then paused. Conner was examining his telescope with a slightly puzzled air. "I didn't know you were into astronomy," he said.

Tim shrugged. "Not really. It was a gift."

"Huh." Conner tilted the scope up at the moon. "Can't see much, can you," he said.

"You need to adjust the focus," said Tim, crossing the room and reaching for the knob - but Conner caught his wrist before he could turn it.

"Hang on a sec," said his friend. Tim frowned in confusion. Conner grinned at him and glanced at the neighboring house in the distance. "Doesn't Becky live over there?"

"Yeah," said Tim. It didn't matter if he blushed, he told himself. Conner would never guess the truth.

Tilting the telescope down, Conner peered through the eyepiece again, then up at Tim. His expression became suddenly thoughtful. He picked up the telescope.

"What are you doing?" said Tim, hoping his voice sounded steady.

"I bet you can see the farm from here," said Conner. He carried the telescope to the opposite window and swung it into place. Tim swallowed, but didn't speak. "Huh," said Conner again as he looked through the eyepiece.

Clearing his throat, Tim said, "What?"

"You *can* see the farm from here. It's all in focus, too...not blurry like the moon or Becky's house. In fact, you can totally see my window from here." He straightened and grinned at Tim. Tim took a step forward, then another. "Hey, if you wanted a show, man, all you had to do was ask," said Conner with a laugh.

Tim kept walking as though drawn by an irresistible force. "Conner," he said hoarsely.

Conner stopped laughing and blinked at him. "Tim? I'm just kidding around, man, no worr-" He stopped as Tim put a hand on the center of his chest. "Uh-"

"Conner," said Tim again, helplessly. "I-"

"Dude, it's cool, I-" Conner made a spastic movement with his hands and the telescope toppled over. Both of them reached for it, Conner's hands closing around it first ( _of course_ , thought Tim) with Tim's over his.

Tim tightened his fingers for a moment before drawing them away, brushing them across the backs of Conner's hands in what was _almost_ a caress. "Conner," he said for a third time. He had to stop this, had to defuse the situation, but Conner was looking at him with wide blue eyes and Tim couldn't do anything but swallow.

"Tim...I really-" Conner said, and both of them jumped at the trill of his phone.

Tim knew that ring. That was the emergency ring, the one the Titans used when they had to get ahold of Superboy. He saw the flash in Conner's eyes, of desperation and mute appeal, and took a step back. "You'd better get that," he said.

There was an uncharacteristically bitter twist to Conner's mouth as he shoved his hand in his pocket and pulled out his phone. "What?" he said into it. His expression went from irritated to worried, his forehead wrinkling. "Yeah? Okay. No, I'm not at the farm, I'm down the road, at- Oh. Right. GPS, got it. Okay. Yeah, see you soon." He snapped the phone shut and looked at Tim. "I..."

"You have to go," said Tim. "Family emergency?"

"Yeah," said Conner, though his mouth twisted again as he said it. His hand closed into a fist. "Look, Tim-"

"It's okay," said Tim quickly. "I understand. Really, it's okay."

Conner blew out a breath and nodded. "They're going to pick me up out front. I'll...let myself out," he said.

Tim gave him a small smile. "I'll see you later," he said. "Tread lightly if you can, okay? I think my parents are asleep. Jet lag, you know?"

"Yeah," said Conner. He closed the door quietly behind him, and Tim waited a count of three before running for his camera. His room didn't have a view of the road, but the empty room across from it did. Tim slipped inside and peered between the curtains, focusing on the dusty patch where Conner was standing. He held down the shutter button, taking picture after picture and praying that the light was good enough for them to come out.

A cloud of dust appeared and then someone was standing in front of Conner. A split-second later, both figures were gone. Tim nodded to himself and went to see if he'd managed to catch any shots of Kid Flash this time.

* * *

Kon swore to himself. Stupid genetically-engineered monsters and their stupid acid. He peeled off the remnants of his shirt and grabbed the thing by its tail, slamming it into the ground repeatedly while Wonder Girl wrapped its tentacles into a knot.

This was taking too long. He had to get _back_. God, Tim was going to think he was the biggest asshole *ever*...

"Superboy," came Robin's voice in his ear, sharp and commanding. "Get your head in the game."

Kon blinked and shook himself, dodging out of the way of a stray tentacle. He didn't bother to respond, just dove down and kept fighting.

Afterward, at the Tower, he called dibs on the showers and scrubbed himself down, making sure every last drop of acid was gone before he threw on a pair of jeans and a plain t-shirt. Robin looked up from her computer when he came in, towel-drying his hair. "That was quick," she said.

"I gotta get back. I got some, uh, homework to finish," said Kon, not meeting her eyes.

"Good for you," came Cassie's voice from the other doorway. Ever since he'd turned her down, she'd started treating him like she was his mother or something. "It's good to hear that you're taking school seriously," she said. "I'm proud of you."

"Uh, thanks," he said, feeling his cheeks getting hot. Robin caught his eye and smirked at him, but didn't say anything, thankfully. "Bart, man, can you give me a lift?"

"Huh? Oh, back to the farm?" said Bart, stuffing a piece of pizza into his mouth.

"Uh, yeah." He could fly there, of course, but it would take him over an hour to get there from here, even at top speed. "Back to the farm." He waved goodbye to the others as he wrapped his arms around Bart and felt the hard rush of wind against his face.

He closed his eyes.

When he opened them again, he was home. For a moment he wondered, when had he started thinking of the farm as 'home'? "Thanks man," he said to Bart. "I owe you one."

"It's cool," said Bart, and then he was gone. The farm was dark and quiet. Kon waited a heartbeat or three, then silently lifted off the ground and headed straight for Tim's house.

* * *

Tim was busy cross-indexing his pictures when he heard the tap on his window. He almost jumped out of his chair before quickly shutting down the program and crossing the room. Conner was there, hanging off the drainpipe - which could never have actually supported his weight in a million years, thought Tim - and peering through the window with a hopeful grin.

Tim blinked and opened the window, carefully lifting out the screen so Conner could get inside and watching bemusedly as he scrambled ungracefully over the sill. "What are you doing here?" asked Tim. "I thought you would spend the night at the - at your mom's house."

Conner shrugged and looked at his feet. "I felt like an asshole," he muttered. "Running out like that. I didn't want you to think that I was-" he ran a hand through his hair and shrugged, "-like, freaked out or something."

"Oh," said Tim. He turned and started to put the window screen back in place.

"I can do that," said Conner, reaching for it. His hand brushed across Tim's and both of them jumped. Tim almost dropped the screen.

"I- I got it," he said, forcing his hands steady as he slid it back into its frame. He turned around, and Conner was *right there*. "Oh," he said stupidly. He was still trying to get past the fact that Conner had come *back*.

For *him*.

"Tim," said Conner, his hands twitching. "I - I really..." He bit his lip.

Tim couldn't stop himself. He never would have had the courage to do it if he'd had a moment to think about it. But he didn't. Something about the darkness of the room, lit only by the stars and moonlight and the flickering glow of his screensaver, the late hour and the fact that Conner had come _back_...

Stepping forward, Tim closed the last, small gap between them and tilted his head up. His arms reached, of their own accord, to wrap around Conner's neck and pull him down into a kiss.

Conner's lips were hard and warm under his, and for what seemed like an eternity he didn't move at all, just stayed perfectly still as Tim pressed their lips together. Tim squeezed his eyes shut, ready to pull away and say it had been a joke, try to salvage *something* and this was what he got for listening to his instincts - then Conner gasped, and it was like a spring had been released. His arms came up to pull Tim closer, his mouth softened, parted. He was kissing Tim _back_.

Tim shuddered hard, his brain shorting out as Conner's tongue met his.

It was...it wasn't anything like he'd imagined it would be. Conner, tasting faintly of coffee and pizza and _himself_ , the smooth slide of his tongue, teasing Tim's, the feel of his hands on the small of Tim's back, warm and strong. Tim could smell him, too. Mingling with acrid ozone and fabric softener, but it was there, surrounding him. Tim pulled away to bury his face in Conner's neck, his nose against Conner's skin, just holding on and _breathing_. "Conner," he whispered.

Conner shivered. "Tim," he breathed. "Tim, I...I need to tell you-" Tim's tongue darted out, and Conner cut himself off with a gasp. He tasted faintly of dust and salt and soap, but beneath it was something else, something wonderful and familiar and alien all at once. Tim pressed eagerly against him and sucked, gently at first and then harder, hard enough to bruise if Conner were...anything like human.

" _Tim_ ," he'd never quite heard Conner sound like that before, voice husky and low. It made his dick twitch against the flannel of his pajama pants.

"Conner," he said, but it came out more like a moan. Conner made a small, almost painful sound and pushed Tim away a little.

"I have to *tell* you," he panted. "I promised I wouldn't, but - but I can't *do* this and not-"

"Conner." Tim put his hand on Conner's mouth, muffling his words. "Shut up." Conner just blinked at him. "Tell me later," said Tim, and took his hand away from Conner's mouth to slide it under his shirt instead.

"B-but," said Conner, so Tim pressed forward and kissed him, his left arm around Conner's neck as his right hand scratched down his chest, finding his nipples and pinching them until Conner broke the kiss to make a harsh whining sound.

They stumbled to the bed, hands and bodies tangled together. "Sit," whispered Tim, and Conner _sat_ , staring up at Tim with wide, stunned eyes.

"Jesus," said Conner as Tim straddled him. "I can't believe you're...you're *doing* this. That you're _like_ this."

"Do you want me to stop?" asked Tim, even as he was grinding down against Conner, even though he didn't think he _could_.

"No!" said Conner. "God, *never* stop, Tim!"

"Okay," said Tim, and bit his neck hard enough to leave a mark on almost anyone else.

Conner just jerked under him, and Tim could *feel* his erection pressing up between them. He shoved at Conner's shirt until Conner tugged it over his head and tossed it aside.

Skin...smooth and hard and _warm_ , like he'd been lying in the sun for hours instead of flying through a chilly Kansas night just to get to *Tim*. Tim ran a fingernail over his perfect collarbone before leaning in, dipping his head to reach Conner's nipple.

He even *tasted* like sunshine. No, there weren't any words at all for what Conner tasted like.

Tim licked and sucked, leaving that perfect skin unmarred. "Tim," said Conner, breathless. "Man, if you keep doing that, I'm gonna..."

Just the *idea* made Tim whimper, but no, he didn't actually want to make Conner come, not yet. He moved his lips lower, circling Conner's bellybutton and wondering for a brief moment why he even *had* one. Maybe the scientists thought he'd look weird without one.

He sucked in another breath. The smell was muskier here. He combed lightly through the dark curls at the edge of Conner's jeans before unbuttoning the fly and carefully pulling down the zipper. His mouth was watering, he realized, and swallowed.

Conner shivered. "Tim," he groaned. "Tim-" Whatever he was going to say next was choked off as Tim tugged off his underwear along with his jeans.

He was so big, big and *hot*. Tim could feel the warmth without even touching him. And everywhere else his skin was dry, sweatless (did Kryptonians even sweat? What kind of extremes of temperature would it take?), but _here_ he was wet, turned on and leaking.

*Tim* had done that. The thought made something in his stomach turn hot and liquid.

Running his fingers lightly up and down the shaft, Tim marveled that they were so alike. A small corner of his brain was thinking about comparative anatomy, wondering how close to human Superman was.

Most of his mind was blank, though, just taking in the sight, the smell, the _feel_ of Conner's skin against his fingertips. He slid the foreskin lightly up and down, which made Conner _whimper_. Tim did it again. The smell was strong and hot, like sunbaked concrete. Like something *alive*.

That made no sense, Tim thought vaguely, then lost the train as Conner jerked in his grasp. Even the part of his brain thinking about comparative anatomy was wondering how Conner would *taste*. He leaned in and licked, and Conner jerked again, making a small, sharp sound. Tim closed his eyes and opened his mouth and lowered his head, wrapping his lips around Conner and sucking as hard as he could.

"Fuck," whispered Conner. "*Fuck*!"

It would probably be too much if Conner was a human, Tim thought. He curled his hand around the base and gripped, *squeezed* until his knuckles were white.

"Fuck, fuck, _Tim_!" cried Conner. "How do you - how do you *know*- " Tim wanted to let go, wanted to warn him to be quiet, his _parents_ were home, and Tim hadn't even locked the door - but before he could say anything Conner was throwing an arm across his mouth, muffling his moans and hiding his face, and Tim felt a stab of relief mingled with disappointment, because he wanted to hear, to _see_ -

Coming to a decision, he uncovered his teeth, letting them scrape against Conner as he sucked again, hard, as hard as he could _make_ it. Conner's head flew back as he arched up and _came_ , the arm across his mouth thankfully muffling his shout. His come was *hot*, almost hot enough to burn Tim's mouth, and he swallowed and coughed and swallowed, gasping at the feel of the hot liquid going down his throat, warming him. He licked his lips and the tip of Conner's penis once more, making him twitch and grab Tim's head, pushing him away a little. "Fuck, Tim," he whispered. "I never thought...I always thought about making *you* come-" Tim looked up at him and laughed. "What?"

"Conner, the only reason I haven't come *already* is that I masturbated after you left." Conner's eyes went wide. "While thinking about you," Tim added. Conner stared for another three seconds, then he was hauling Tim up on top of him and kissing him hard. Kissing him breathless.

"God, you just...I wanted you, wanted to touch you, wanted to *tell* you-" he mumbled between kisses, and Tim barely registered the words.

"Wanted," he echoed, catching Conner's lower lip between his teeth and nipping at it. Conner rucked up his pajama top and pinched his nipples, sending sweet jolts of sensation through him and making him gasp. His hips moved of their own accord, grinding down against Conner's hard thigh. "Think about you all the *time*," he said.

"Yeah," said Conner, his tongue flicking against Tim's. Suddenly he was *everywhere*, all *over* Tim's body, a feeling like hands and tongues and warm skin against every _part_ of him. He couldn't even speak, just pressed his mouth against Conner's shoulder to muffle the sounds he was making. When he opened his eyes for a moment, he could see the bed more than a foot below them.

"Conner!" he whispered, torn between alarm and delight.

"What?" said Conner. "I...oh _shit_ ," he said, and abruptly they fell, hitting the bed with a loud *thump* that made the room shiver and drove the breath from Tim's lungs.

* * *

 _Oh crap oh crap ohcrapohcrap_.

"Jeez, I'm sor-," Kon began. Tim clapped a hand over his mouth and froze. Kon, confused, stilled as well. For several endless seconds they lay like that, until Tim started to relax and drew his hand away. Kon was about to speak when he heard the soft pad of slippers outside Tim's bedroom door.

 _Oh my god_ , he thought, and tensed.

There was a tap at the door. Tim's heart rate jumped again. "Tim? Honey? You're not jumping on the bed, are you?" came his mom's voice from the other side. Tim took a deep breath.

"No, mom," he said. "I, uh, I just jumped *into* bed."

"Don't do that," she said. "It's not good for the bed springs. If you want to jump on something, we'll get you a trampoline." Kon prayed to every god he knew that she wouldn't open the door.

Tim closed his eyes. "We have a trampoline, mom," he said.

"We do?"

"Yeah, we just never set it up."

"I don't remember that." Kon could hear the frown in her voice.

"Mom, I'm going to sleep, now," said Tim firmly.

"All right, Tim. Good night."

"Good night, mom."

Kon listened as she padded back down the stairs. When she was halfway down he felt the chuckles starting to well up in his chest. By the time she reached the bottom, he was shaking with silent laughter. Tim opened his eyes and gave him a reluctant grin. "Sorry," he said ruefully. "My mom..."

He trailed off and Conner just shook his head. "Dude," he finally said, "That was *close*. We would have been *so* busted!" Tim just closed his eyes again and nodded, flushing. "Hey, at least we didn't break the bed," said Kon, then stopped, biting his tongue.

Tim opened his eyes once more and stared. "...You weren't jumping on the bed," he said slowly.

"Uh, no," admitted Kon, and hoped he would leave it there.

Tim's eyes widened a little. "Were you...you were..."

Kon lifted his head so he wouldn't have to meet Tim's eyes, and whispered into his ear, "I was thinking about *you*."

"You..." Tim reared back, and Kon could feel his erection, which had flagged, coming to life again. "You were...*me*? But that was months ago!" Kon shrugged. "That was even before I _knew_..." He stopped abruptly.

Kon stared up at him, his eyes narrowing. "Yeah, *about* that," he said, and Tim went still again. "Just how long have you known?"

Tim shifted, looking down. "Since August," he said.

" _August_?" Kon yelped before he remembered that Tim's parents were just downstairs. "Dude, you've known for *months*!" Tim grinned a little and nodded, still not meeting Kon's eyes. "Why didn't you *tell* me?"

Tim's grin faded. "Nobody told *me*," he said. "I thought. I wasn't supposed to know, was I?"

Guilt rose in Kon, making him swallow back the bitterness. "I *wanted* to tell you," he said.

"You did?" Tim seemed surprised.

"Jeez, Tim, of course I did! Do you know how much lying to you all the time *sucked*?"

Tim's face changed, that small smile coming to hover on his lips. "Oh," he said. "I...well, I'm glad. That you wanted to tell me, I mean." He didn't say anything else, but after a second he bent his head and touched his lips to Kon's.

Kon wrapped his arms around him and deepened the kiss. Tim felt so good against him, his skin wonderful under Kon's hands. When they broke apart, Kon whispered, "Let's get out of here."

Tim looked at him, dazed. "Where...?"

Carefully, Kon lifted them off the bed together and they floated across the room. Touching the wall, he silently slid the screen out of its bracket and opened the window. Tim shivered as the chill night air poured in, so Kon wrapped his TTK around them like a bubble as he pulled Tim close. Tim made a sound and pressed even closer. "Conner," he moaned. Then, in a whisper so soft that Kon barely caught it, " _Superboy_."

"I have another name," he said into Tim's ear as they floated out into the night. Tim shuddered. They began to drift. The sky was that weird pre-dawn color, still black, but with an anticipation of lightness. "Superman gave me my real name," he said. "Kon, of the house of El. Kon-El. But my friends call me 'Kon'," he added sheepishly.

Tim's heart was beating fast, but Kon didn't think he was scared. "Kon-El," he said. "K-Kon." Kon tugged down his flannel pajama pants and wrapped a hand around him. Tim thrust into his fist with a harsh sound. " _Kon_ ," he moaned. Something inside Kon warmed at the word.

"Yeah," he murmured. Using his TTK, he lifted Tim higher, floating him up until his hips were level with Kon's face, until all he had to do was lean forward just a little and *lick*. He cupped Tim's ass with one hand and let his power wander over Tim's skin, feeling every tremble as he stroked and touched. Tim whimpered, his eyes closed and his skin flushed, his head flung back. He was sexier than anything Kon had ever imagined.

"I never thought," said Kon. "I never thought you'd *let* me..."

"Kon," begged Tim, "Oh, _please_..." Kon pulled him forward, straight into his mouth. "So hot," groaned Tim. "God...your mouth, so. So. Can't _stop_ -" He thrust helplessly against the invisible hold on him, "So _much_ \- I - Kon, _Kon_ , I-" With a strangled scream he arched and shot into Kon's mouth. Kon kept sucking, kept licking, until Tim whimpered again and Kon pulled back, lowering Tim until Kon could wrap his arms around him, one behind his head, the other stroking up and down his back. "Kon," whispered Tim again as they slowly spiraled downward. Kon flattened them out, laying back against the air with Tim curled up on top of him.

"I've got you," whispered Kon.

[](http://glymr.dreamwidth.org/208423.html?thread=2201127#cmt2201127)   
_"Night Flight", by[_sephet_](http://users.livejournal.com/_sephet_/). Please do not re-post without the artist's permission._

~End of Year One: Fall~


	5. Year Two: "In Bloom", Winter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When he was nine years old, young Timothy Drake's family decided to move to a small town in Kansas...
> 
>  
> 
> _"I..." he croaked, and cleared his throat, forcing himself to keep breathing. "I..." What could he say? There was no possible excuse, no plausible deniability, absolutely *no* way that could have been anything but exactly what it looked like. He swallowed. "I'm sorry," he said at last, wondering if he'd ruined everything._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word Count this chapter: 6452 words  
> Rating, this chapter: PG-13; (NC-17 overall)  
> Thanks, as always, to iesika and everyone that supported me and encouraged me. This chapter draws heavily from early Teen Titans (the new generation), particularly the conversation between Kon and Clark.

"Conner."

Kon shook his head sleepily. "Ma?" he said. Blinking, he looked around his dark room. He'd thought he heard Ma say his name...

"...I think he and Tim are...involved."

Three facts hit Kon simultaneously. One, Ma and Pa were taking a late walk not far from the house, probably just to talk about him. Two, he was eavesdropping on them. And three, there was no way he could stop listening __now__.

"'Involved'?" said Pa, sounding amused. "Involved in *what*? What kind of mischief are those boys getting up to?"

" _Pa_ ," said Ma, "I mean that they're involved with _each other_." Pa didn't say anything, and Ma added, "Romantically, I mean. Possibly sexually."

There was a long moment of silence, so long that Kon strained his hearing until he could pick up the sound of their breathing.

"*Tim?* _Our_ Tim?"

 _*Our* Tim?_ _What about me?_

A sigh. "Yes, Jonathon. Our Tim. And Conner, if I'm not mistaken."

Pa sounded really kind of shocked. "But...but *Tim's* not...he's not one of...I mean, he isn't a... _Tim_ is-" Kon scowled, his hands closing into fists at his sides. No _wonder_ Tim hadn't wanted Ma and Pa to know about them.

"He's gay, Jonathon," said Ma, managing to sound both exasperated and fond.

Silence again. "And Conner?"

"Well, I suppose he must be bi-sexual," she said casually. "His name's been connected with enough different girls that..." she trailed off and sighed. "That's what worries me, actually."

There was a shifting sound, the brush of skin against fabric. It took Kon a moment to figure it out, but he decided that Pa had probably put his arm around Ma.

"What is it, Ma?" said Pa gently.

"It's Tim," she said, her voice getting softer. "Conner's a nice boy, of course. It's just, he's...he's flighty. Even _fickle_ , though maybe that's too harsh. And Tim, well...the boy takes things to _heart_ so."

It took a moment for Kon to process what she'd just said, but when he did, he gasped like he'd been punched in the gut - by Clark. "I wouldn't! I'd _never_ -" he said aloud.

"Conner would never hurt Tim," said Pa with quiet certainty.

Kon's eyes went wide in the darkness of his room. A minute ago he'd been furious with Pa; now he wanted to hug him. " _Pa_ ," he whispered to his empty room.

"I wasn't sure about him myself at first," Pa went on slowly. "With the upbringing he had - or *didn't* have, as it may be. And then he settled in _Hawaii_ , of all places."

"Yes, that hotbed of sin," said Ma dryly.

Pa chuckled. "All right, I know what I sound like, Ma. But you were thinking the same thing, just now. All we ever heard about was parties and girls and trouble and more trouble, whether he was by himself or with that Young Justice team...seemed at times they should've called themselves the Young Hoodlums." He snorted. "I was awful leery when Clark asked us to take him in. But Conner's a good kid, Ma. He helps out with the chores, even gets up early and...he's like Clark. He's _true_. He and Tim are close, even a blind fool like me can see that. If they're...as close as you seem to think they are, well... they likely won't stay together forever, but he won't be careless with Tim's feelings, Ma." Kon realized he was holding his breath, straining to catch every word. His hands were shaking and his eyes prickled. He closed his hands into fists again and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to stop it.

Ma sighed, long and low. "They're so _young_ ," she said.

"'bout the age we were, when I started taking you out," said Pa, and Kon could hear the smile in his voice. "And I mighta been called fickle, too, before you said 'yes' to that first dance. Never looked at another girl after that, though."

Ma snorted. "You _looked_ at plenty, Jonathon."

"Hmm, it seems to me there was no shortage of men wanting to take *you* out," said Pa with a teasing air.

"Oh, you-" The footsteps stopped abruptly. "Jonathon? What is it?"

"Does Tim _know_?" Kon bit his lip.

"I think he must, dear"

"Did Conner _tell him_?" His tone was so shocked and betrayed that Kon actually reared up in bed.

"No!" said Kon. "I didn't!"

"I don't think he did," said Ma slowly. "I think Tim figured it out."

Pa actually sounded surprised. "Really?"

"You _know_ what a bright boy Tim is, dear. And you know perfectly well that it goes beyond getting straight As in school."

"That's true, but..." he trailed off, then said slowly, as one who's just realizing something, "When Conner had to leave in the middle of dinner the other night, it didn't even faze Tim. He just said, 'Another family emergency, Conner? You'd better go, then,' and asked me to pass the peas."

" _Exactly_. Tim...he makes it _easy_ for Conner. He never asks questions, never tries to find out more - at first it was because I *asked* him not to pry too much, but...it's different, now. It's been different for awhile."

 _Since August_ , thought Kon.

"I guess you're right," sighed Pa. "It's probably just as well."

They were silent for a long time after that, and eventually Kon lay back down and felt his eyes start to drift shut. He barely heard Ma sigh and say, "We need to talk to Clark," before he sank into sleep.

* * *

Tim carefully wiped the last glass dry and stretched up to put it on the second shelf of the cabinet. Times like these he envied Conner his extra height, but things could be worse. At least Tim was taller than Ma. She couldn't even reach the second shelf.

As the glass slid neatly next to the others, clinking a little, Tim felt something warm press up against his back. He froze for a moment, then carefully turned around.

Conner had him pinned, strong hands on the edge of the counter on either side of Tim, and large, invulnerable body in front of him. "Conner-" said Tim, choking a little on the word when Conner leaned down and nuzzled his cheek.

"Relax," whispered Conner in his ear, making him shiver. "They're gonna be gone at _least_ another fifteen minutes."

He was right, of course. Ma and Pa always took a walk in the evening now, ostensibly because of "Doctor's orders", but also for a chance, Tim thought, to have some time alone together to talk. They were never gone less than half an hour.

"That isn't the point, Conn- uh-" Conner pressed forward, sucking gently at a spot just under his ear. "We shouldn't - we can't do this _here,_ " said Tim breathlessly.

"Tiiim." Conner's hands slid up behind him, rucking up the back of his shirt. "You worry too much, man." He caught Tim's lips in a kiss, and Tim knew he was lost. He should know better than this. He *did* know better. But...was this what addiction felt like? It seemed like he thought about Conner *all the time* now, Conner's hands on him, his _mouth_...Tim felt more than heard the sound he made as that mouth opened against his, hot and inviting. He breathed in through his nose, filling himself with the scent of Conner, of his body, his skin. Conner's tongue slid against his own, slick and tasting faintly of sweet, cream-laden coffee.

Tim might have to start drinking his own coffee that way if this went on much longer.

God, they shouldn't be doing this in the kitchen - _Ma's kitchen_ \- but Conner's hands were sliding to cup his ass now, squeezing, and it felt so _good_. Tim jerked against him, shuddering, feeling himself getting hard. Some days all he had to do was _think_ about Conner and he would get half-hard. Besides, he could feel Conner's own erection pressing against him, a thick bulge against the seam of his jeans, and the thought made him arch, made him slide his hands up Conner's broad chest, over his shoulders, to twine around the back of his neck where he could just hang _on_ -

The click of the screen door closing froze Tim in place. His blood turned to ice-water, his breath came short and fast in his throat. He felt cold and _sick_. He glanced over Conner's shoulder, to where Ma and Pa stood, staring at them, then shoved Conner away with a single sharp movement.

Conner took a step back, even though Tim could never have moved him if Conner hadn't let him. A moment later Tim realized he was still half-hard, his penis not having quite caught up with the rest of his body yet. He spun in place, putting his back to all of them, gripping the counter with both hands and feeling lightheaded. He wondered if he was going to faint.

"I..." he croaked, and cleared his throat, forcing himself to keep breathing. "I..." What could he say? There was no possible excuse, no plausible deniability, absolutely *no* way that could have been anything but exactly what it looked like. He swallowed. "I'm sorry," he said at last, wondering if he'd ruined everything.

A few, agonizing seconds of silence. Then, "Whatever for?" asked Ma.

Tim scowled down at the countertop, his fingers turning white where they gripped it. He could feel Conner behind him, could _feel_ that he wanted to reach out to Tim. Stiffening, Tim started, "For - we shouldn't have - I shouldn't have been..." He couldn't say it, couldn't force the words out past his dry throat.

"Well *I'm* sorry we interrupted you," Ma said, casually, easily. "We forgot the umbrella."

Tim's head snapped up, and in spite of himself he turned, meeting her eyes. There was nothing but sympathy and a quiet touch of humor in hers. He couldn't quite look at Pa. Not yet.

Conner spoke up. "Is it, uh, raining?" he asked. Tim didn't dare even glance at him.

"Not yet," said Ma, "But it's going to come down in bucketfulls any second now, and probably most of the night. You can smell it in the air. We didn't want to be caught out in it." The door between the rooms swung, making Tim jump a little. He hadn't even realized Pa had left the room.

"I got it," said Pa, flourishing the battered old black umbrella like a sword. Tim's eyes slid over to him. Pa's face was redder than usual, and he was avoiding Tim's eye, but he didn't seem angry or...or revolted.

"Tim," said Ma, catching his attention again. "We were young once, too, you know." Her voice was very gentle.

His fingers were starting to tingle as circulation returned to them. "I..." His voice was hoarse, alien in his own ears. He closed his mouth and nodded, watching as Pa held open the screen door for Ma and the two of them stepped back out into the night.

Closing his eyes, he slumped against the counter. "Oh _god_ ," he whispered.

Conner's arms wrapped around him, pulling him close. "Tim, man, it's okay." Conner ran one hand down the back of his head, down to his back, soothing him. "It's gonna be fine. _Jesus_ you're pale."

"C-Conner," said Tim, burying his face in Conner's shirt and trying not to hyperventilate. Then, lifting his head, he glared at the taller boy. "You were supposed to be *listening*!" he said accusingly.

Conner had the decency to look embarrassed. "I *was* listening," he protested. "I was listening to _you_."

"To me?"

"You make these _sounds_ when you get turned on, but they're so quiet. The way your breath catches when I kiss you here," he touched the side of Tim's neck just under his ear, "The sound of your heart pounding, speeding up..." His eyes got distant for a moment. "I just sort of...lose myself in you, I guess."

Tim felt his eyes going wide. "Conner," he whispered. Conner pulled him close again - and reached down to squeeze his ass, making Tim jump.

" _Conner_!" he said reproachfully.

"Hey, you heard Ma. They were young once too, ya know," said Conner with a smirk.

Tim laughed, a slightly hysterical edge still evident in the sound. Conner's arms tightened a tiny bit. "Not here," said Tim quietly.

"All right," agreed Conner. "Let's go outside."

"It's going to rain," murmured Tim, but he didn't really have any will left to object.

"So?" said Conner, and their feet lifted off the old linoleum floor. "I'll keep you warm," he whispered in Tim's ear, and Tim wrapped his arms around Conner's neck again, closed his eyes, and held on.

* * *

Clark was waiting for him again when he got out of school. "Hey," said Kon when he pushed open the door and saw him standing there. Tim was a few steps behind; he'd stopped to take a drink from the water fountain. "Come to check up on me?" said Conner belligerently.

Of course Clark just smiled. "No. I hear you've been doing well in school, though." He turned to Tim. "Hello, Tim."

"Hi, Clark," said Tim. His eyes darted from Kon to Clark and back again - he'd obviously heard the note of hostility in Kon's voice. Suddenly Kon wondered if Ma had said anything to Clark about...them.

"It's all because of Tim," he burst out. "I - I wouldn't be doing well if it weren't for him."

Clark's eyebrows darted up, and Tim looked startled, flushing slightly. "That's not true," he said. "You're smart, Conner, you never really needed my help, you just needed to focus-"

"But-"

"Well, either way," said Clark, cutting into their argument gracefully, "It sounds like Conner's lucky to have you as a friend, Tim." He beamed at Tim, and Tim's flush deepened a little, but he didn't look away immediately. Instead he studied Clark's face sharply for a long moment before dropping his gaze.

"Thank you," he said.

Clark patted him on the shoulder. "No, thank *you*, Tim," and Tim looked pleased and embarrassed, his blush getting even darker. God, how did Clark *do* that? _No one_ could resist Clark when he was like that. Kon really needed to learn how to do that.

Not that he couldn't make Tim blush whenever he wanted to.

He carefully didn't smile at the thought. Instead he folded his arms across his chest and said, "So you aren't here to check up on me. You just stopped by to say, 'hi', then?"

Clark sighed ruefully. "I probably deserve the defensive attitude," he said. "But the truth is, I have something to give you."

Kon blinked, taken aback. "What? Why?" Why would Clark want to give *him* anything? He was just the clone. Part Superman, part...no. No, he *didn't* have Lex Luthor's DNA in him. That had just been a prank, a sick joke. It *had* to be.

Robin had kept her word and not researched any further, but she'd suggested several times that he should let her test his DNA, 'just to be sure'. 'I have someone who could help me,' she'd said. 'Someone that *isn't* Batman, someone that can keep a secret-'

'*No*,' he'd told her. 'I _am_ sure.'

He wondered if Clark could read his DNA. He wondered what he'd see if he did.

He shook off the thought.

"It's by way of an apology," said Clark. He glanced at Tim again and said, "Tim, I wonder if you'd mind if-"

"I have some things I need to take care of at home," said Tim quickly, and Kon remembered what Ma had said about Tim making things easy. He bumped Kon's arm and said, "See you later, Conner, Clark." He nodded at Clark, who smiled brilliantly at him, hitched his backpack higher on his shoulder, and started down the road.

Kon glanced at Clark, but Clark was watching Tim walk away, a thoughtful expression on his face. Then he turned to Kon and said, "Come on," as he started to unbutton his shirt. Kon shrugged and did the same.

"Where are we going?"

Clark grinned. "Someplace _swell_."

It didn't take them long to get there, as the crow (or the Superguys) flew. Kon stared down at the huge crater. "What *is* that?"

"When my rocket landed in Smallville, a few meteorites came with it," said Superman casually. "The biggest one _made_ this."

Kon backpedaled in mid-air. " _Kryptonite?_ "

Superman didn't seem to notice his alarm. "Not a very large piece, but the impact from traveling light-years across space made it incredibly powerful."

" _Yeah_ ," said Kon. That was only the understatement of the *year*, he thought as he cautiously started to descend along with Clark. He didn't feel sick, didn't feel that weird dizziness, so it must be safe. He felt a little sheepish. Of _course_ it was safe; Clark had probably made sure this place was cleared of any trace of kryptonite a long time ago, or he wouldn't come here, right?

"How's the heat vision?" asked Clark.

Kon flushed. The last time they'd seen each other, Kon had accidentally burned a hole in Clark's cape. "It's okay," he said. "I still can't really turn it on when I want it. It just kinda *goes*."

"Give it some time," said Superman. "I used to come here and practice." He pulled aside some of the overgrowth trailing down the steep side of the crater to reveal initials burned into the rock.

"'C.K. Loves L.L.'?" read Kon in disbelief. " _Hilarious_. Wait, you knew *Lois* back then?"

"Uh...someone like that," said Superman, but he sounded more like Clark. Kon's eyebrows went up and he opened his mouth to press further, but Superman started speaking again.

"You can always talk to Ma and Pa, you know," he said. "Or me. I know this is a confusing time for you-"

"Anyway," said Kon, heading him off before this could get any *more* embarrassing. "What about this 'gift'?"

Superman looked at him seriously. "Something that's overdue. It's been clear for awhile that you're ready to take on more responsibility. In fact, I wanted to give him to you awhile ago-"

"'Him'?" said Kon, suddenly suspicious.

Superman smiled and put his index and pinky in his mouth.

"What are you- OW!" said Kon, clapping his hands over his ears as a high-pitched, _loud_ whistle rent the air.

"You _heard_ -?"

"I think the whole *world* did! Jeez!" said Kon, rubbing his ear.

"ROWF!" A white and red streak came barreling toward them, jumping up on Superman and tumbling him backward.

He didn't seem to mind, though. "All right, all right!" he laughed. "Down, boy."

Kon's eyes narrowed further. "What is this?" he said.

"You know Krypto-"

"Of *course* I do. What's he got to do with me?"

"I've been looking for the right home for him for awhile," said Superman. "I can't keep him in Metropolis, not with so many people there. And the Fortress of Solitude...he's all _alone_ there, Conner."

Kon scowled.

"Smallville has open fields," Superman continued, apparently oblivious, "acres of unpopulated land...and a boy who could use a _friend_."

Of _course_ he'd say something corny like that, thought Conner. "What am I supposed to do? *Train* him?"

"Yes," said Superman eagerly. "Yes, that's _exactly_ what you're going to do."

"To do *what*? Fight bad guys?"

"Well, simple tricks like sitting and fetching would be a start," said Superman seriously. "Krypto *is* highly intelligent."

Kon looked over at where the dog was licking its own butt, head buried beneath its cape. "Yeah. A genius," he said sarcastically.

"All I'm asking is that you *try*," said Superman.

 _You can't handle him and don't have time to deal with him, so you're dumping him off on me, huh? Some gift,_ thought Conner wryly. Still...he looked over at the dog again, who was now chasing its tail in circles in the air, and thought about what Superman had said about how he'd been all alone at the Fortress. "You wanted to give him to me sooner?" he said, stalling for time.

Superman smiled ruefully. "I meant to. I was going to, just a few days after we had that...altercation at the Tower, in fact. But Ma said..." he trailed off, and Kon looked at him curiously.

"What?"

"She said that your friend was over a lot, and that he was sure to see something...actually, I think her exact words were, 'He's going to notice a flying *dog*, Clark!'" He chuckled at the memory, but didn't meet Kon's eye. Krypto dove down into the huge well of the crater, wrapped his jaws around the trunk of a sturdy tree and ripped it out of the ground, roots and all. Oh, *that* was going to go over well if he did it in someone's backyard.

"And now?" said Kon when Clark didn't continue.

"Well, now...I understand that's no longer an issue," said Superman.

Kon took a deep breath. "I didn't tell him," he said. "He figured it out on his own. I didn't-" _I didn't break my promise_.

"I know, Conner." Superman put a hand on his shoulder, strong and warm. "I _know_." He let go. "So, what do you think? Can you do this for me? For _him_?"

How did he *do* that? _No one_ could resist Superman when he did that.

Not even Kon, apparently.

"All right," he said grudgingly. "I'll *try* it," he was about to say more, something about being able to change his mind if it wasn't working, but instead he went "Oof!" as Krypto shoved the tree he'd pulled out of the ground into Kon's chest. "Stupid dog," muttered Kon. He grabbed the tree and threw it as far as he could. "Get out of my face." Krypto wuffed happily and took off after the tree like an ordinary dog chasing a stick.

 _I wonder what Tim will say_ , thought Kon, gazing after the dog as he disappeared into the distance.

* * *

Tim noted that his truck wasn't parked in his usual spot and nodded to himself, pleased. He'd been working on them gradually, disabling the old truck more and more often, for longer and longer periods of time, and suggesting they take his truck instead, since, "I'm not using it anyway," or "Conner could use the driving practice."

His truck's absence now meant that they'd taken him up on it and used it to drive into town, or had Conner do it. The windows were all dark except Conner's, though, so Tim figured it was the former. Or maybe the truck had been stolen, he thought with a grin, as unlikely as that scenario was *here*. He pushed open the (unlocked) screen and stepped past the (open) door. He took a breath to call up to Conner - then froze, his heart stilling in his chest.

Two red eyes shone at him out of the twilight dusk, and a menacing growl rumbled across the room.

"What the _hell_?" gasped Tim, pushing backward through the screen door. The...whatever it was bounded across the kitchen, barking. Tim turned and ran, only to be knocked to the ground by a powerful body against his back, the wind knocked out of him by the blow. He could feel the creature's hot breath against the back of his neck and gasped, trying desperately to get enough air into his lungs to call for help.

"Krypto!" came a welcome, familiar voice. "BAD DOG!" The weight lifted from Tim's back, and he turned his head in time to see a flash of red light (accompanied by a squeal of pain) followed by something tumbling across the sky. " _Tim._ Oh my god, are you all _right?_ "

Conner was touching him with gentle, careful hands, and Tim felt the now familiar, yet still strange sensation of TTK washing over his skin. "I'm -" he managed, finally getting his breath back. "I'm fine," he said. "Just - just winded. A little bruised." He was lifted into the air and turned over, his shirt sliding up his chest.. "I'm _fine,_ Conner. You can put me down," he said, irritably tugging at his shirt.

"Good," said Conner. "That's - that's good." He lowered Tim to the ground and Tim clambered to his feet, brushing himself off.

"What the hell _was_ that?" he asked.

" _That_ was Krypto-" Conner started angrily.

Something streaked across the sky toward them, and Tim repressed a shudder. "It's coming back," he said.

Kon folded his arms across his chest. The thing flew down directly in front of them - and dropped to the ground, cowering and whimpering, the picture of a repentant canine. Tim saw a singe mark on its cape, and a black mark on its side. "Aw man," muttered Kon. "I didn't mean to use my heat vision on him. It was just...when I saw you lying there..." He bent down to the dog's level and looked it in the eye. "Krypto," he said sternly.

The dog huddled even closer to the ground, cringing away from Conner. Conner sighed. "Krypto, this is Tim. Tim is a _friend_." Krypto cocked his head and wuffed curiously. " _Friend_ ," said Conner again, putting an arm around Tim's waist and pulling him to his side. "He's _not_ a Bad Guy. Look, I know I told you to protect the farmhouse, but you can't just _attack_ anyone that comes through the door-" Krypto whimpered and in spite of everything Tim felt a little sympathy for the creature. " _Look_ ," said Conner again, combing a hand through his hair in frustration. "Okay, first lesson: you need to learn the difference between a Bad Guy and a Good Guy."

Tim closed his eyes and swallowed several times, then bent down next to Conner and held out a hand that only shook a little. "Krypto," he said hoarsely, cleared his throat, and tried again. "Hey, Krypto." Apparently Krypto had the same powers that Superman and Superboy did...which meant he could have hurt Tim a lot worse than he had.

Of course, he could also undoubtedly take off Tim's hand with a single bite, but Tim was trying really hard not to think about that. "Come on boy," he said, willing his voice not to tremble. Slowly, the dog inched forward, glancing warily between Conner and himself. "Come on." Delicately, Krypto lifted his head and snuffled at Tim's hand. A moment later, he licked at Tim's fingers.

"Ew," said Tim in spite of himself, but he managed not to pull his hand away.

"Holy crap," said Conner, and Tim glanced up at him, unwillingly pulling his eyes away from the Superdog. "You - you're really brave, Tim."

Tim felt his face heating, a common feeling around Conner these days. "I'm not," he said, biting his lip. Something wet slurped across his cheek, and two paws rested lightly on his chest. "EW!" he cried, pushing ineffectually at the suddenly enthusiastic animal. "Conner, get your stupid mutt *off* of me!"

Conner laughed. "Down boy!" he said, "Sit!" and to his apparent surprise, Krypto _sat_. "Looks like he likes you," he said.

Tim wiped his face with the back of his sleeve. "Well, it's better than the alternative, I guess," he sighed.

* * *

Kon slumped down on Tim's bed, watching him type busily away at his laptop. When Tim got like this, he seemed to shut everything else out. It made Kon want to tickle him or grab him and noogie him or something, just to get his attention. But the sooner Tim was done, the sooner they could fly out and eat the picnic dinner Ma had packed for them, so Kon folded his hands behind his head and stared at the ceiling instead. Tim had tried to talk him into doing the extra-credit assignment, too, but Kon had stuck to his guns. His grades were good enough; there was no *way* he was taking on extra work.

His mind wandered back to the previous weekend, and he frowned at the ceiling and sighed.

"What's wrong?" asked Tim from his desk. So much for him being oblivious.

"Nothing," said Kon. Tim's ceiling was smooth and uncracked, unlike the ceiling in Kon's room back at the farm.

Tim stopped typing and swiveled around in his chair, resting his arm across the back of it and looking at Kon skeptically. "Kon," he said.

"You done?" asked Kon.

Tim shrugged. "I can finish it later," he said. "I'm almost done."

"Great. Let's get going," said Kon.

Tim leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. "Not until you tell me what's wrong," he said.

Kon groaned. "Fine," he said. "I'll tell you on the way." He scooped Tim off his chair and into his arms, ignoring the mild protest Tim made. "I'm _starving_."

Tim breathed a laugh against his skin and wrapped his arms around Kon's neck. "All right," he said. Kon grabbed the picnic basket from where it sat in the corner and flew out the window which obligingly opened for them, thanks to a tug from Kon's TTK.

The sky was striped with color, the sun low on the horizon. "The days are getting longer again. Spring's coming," said Tim softly, his nose buried against Kon's neck. He was _smelling_ Kon again, which always weirded Kon out slightly, even though it also kind of turned him on. Not that he'd ever tell Tim either of those things.

Well, maybe the second one. Tim *really* liked turning Conner on. Not that it was very - heh - _hard._

They came to their favorite spot, at the edge of the huge crater Clark had shown him awhile ago. In silence, they laid out the blanket and spread it with Ma's feast.

"Woof."

Kon glanced over his shoulder. "Hey, boy," he said. Krypto looked at him hopefully. "Yeah, all right. Go get a tree, boy." Bouncing with a sudden excitement, the dog flew down into the crater and grabbed the tree he'd left there last time. Kon took it from him and threw it as far as he could, Krypto streaking off after it with a pleased yelp. When he turned, he caught a look of mingled fondness and lust on Tim's face.

Kon raised an eyebrow and Tim grinned at him before tucking in. "I never get tired of watching you use your powers," he admitted around a bite of chicken. Kon smirked back at him and picked up a sandwich.

"So," said Tim, and waited. Kon sighed. He really should have known better than to hope that Tim would forget about it.

Taking another bite, he chewed it slowly, swallowed, and leaned back, looking at the darkening sky. "Robin," he started, then swallowed again, Ma's good food suddenly feeling like sawdust on his tongue. "She's been gone for a few weeks. She sent us emails that she was 'taking some time off', but she didn't tell us *why*. I found out from Clark - Superman." Tim just nodded, unsurprised - Kon figured he'd guessed Superman's secret identity a long time ago, like, oh, about 3 seconds after he'd figured out Kon's. "Her mom...her mom was killed. Murdered." Tim sucked in air, his eyes going wide. " _Because_ she's Robin," said Kon. He closed his hands into fists, the way he always did when he felt helpless or frustrated. "I don't - I don't know what to say to her. I don't know what to _do_..."

Tim put his hand on Kon's arm and squeezed. "Is she...is her father...in the picture?"

Kon shook his head. "He's in *jail*," he said, scowling.

"Oh," said Tim faintly. "I see." There was a flicker in his eyes, and then they grew distant. A frown worked its way across his forehead. "Does she have a place to stay?" he said. "I'm sure Ma would-"

"No," said Kon, "I mean, yes. I wish she *would*." At that moment Krypto flew up to them and dropped the huge log next to the picnic blanket with a pleased 'woof'. Kon picked it up and threw it again. "She says she's staying with _Batman_." He glared down at the picnic blanket. "I know he kind of drives her crazy, though. Her br- Nightwing's going to stay with her, too, at least, and I know he's-" He stopped. Tim's heartbeat had spiked abruptly, his breathing speeding up, too. "Tim?"

"Mom murdered, dad in jail, moving in with...oh my god. Oh my _god_. But that would mean that _he's_..." Tim's eyes darted back and forth, fixing on nothing. "All this time. All this time, and I didn't even _*know*_ him! I've been so _stupid_...if only I'd never left *Gotham*! I can't believe I've been so stupid!"

"Tim?" said Kon uncertainly. Krypto dropped the log next to the blanket again, shaking the ground, but Kon hardly noticed, absently picking up the thing and throwing it at random.

Tim looked at him at last. "Conner," he said breathlessly, "Do you know - have you _met_ Nightwing?"

"Nightwing?" Kon blinked, confused and a little hurt. "Uh, yeah. A few times. What's that got to do with...?"

Tim shook his head again, and then, with a visible effort, wrenched his attention back to the present. "Conner," he said. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean...that was inexcusable. I just _realized_ ," his lips twisted into a self-deprecating smile. "I just figured out something I should have realized a long time ago. I've been an _idiot_." He reached out, curling a hand around Kon's. "I'm sorry. I know Robin's your friend. Your _best_ friend."

"Well, next to you," said Kon. "I mean - you're both my best friends." Tim flushed and smiled his small smile. "But...yeah. I don't know what to say to her."

" _Woof_ ," said Krypto. When Kon didn't even look at him, he crouched on the blanket, nosing at Kon's hand. Tim tossed him a piece of chicken, which he swallowed whole.

After a moment Tim said, "I don't know, either. But I'll look it up when I get home." Kon just stared at him. Tim frowned. "What?"

Kon shrugged and laughed a little. "You think the internet will have the answer?" he said.

"Maybe. It can't hurt to look," said Tim defensively.

"I guess you're right," said Kon. He felt better. It was good to have someone to talk to, someone who _wasn't_ a superhero. He stood up and stretched. Picking up Krypto's tree, he threw it good and hard. "Hey, Tim?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you really sorry you left Gotham?"

Tim stood up and pressed close to him. "No," he said.

[](http://improvinspi.livejournal.com/3398.html)   
_"Sunset Picnic" by[improvinspi](http://improvinspi.livejournal.com/3398.html). Please do not re-post without the permission of the artist._

* * *

Alone in his room, Tim turned on his laptop and set down a cup of tea on his desk. He took a breath and closed his eyes before taking out the latest issue of "We" magazine.

Impatiently, he turned it to the relevant article, skimming over the words he'd read three times already.

 _Who is Stephanie Brown?_ blared the headline. He'd bought the magazine for the mentions of Dick and, to a lesser extent, Bruce Wayne. Now he stared at the picture of the blonde girl, biting his lip. One-handed, he typed a sequence of keys to unlock his laptop, then accessed a particular file, triple encrypted with a randomized password.

The image of Robin came up, talking to Conner at the Tower. Tim glanced down at the magazine in his hand, then back to her again, examining jawline, ears, nose...even though he was already _sure._

Finally he had to sit back and take a drink of tea to steady himself.

'Steph'. 'Stephanie Brown', whose mother had been brutally murdered (supposedly during a burglary attempt gone bad), and whose father, the Cluemaster, was in jail, was all over the news.

She was also Robin. Tim was absolutely certain of it.

And if she was Robin, that meant that _Bruce Wayne_ , the feckless, drunken, irresponsible socialite, was also *Batman*.

And *that* meant...Tim's hand shook. He put down his tea before he spilled it. *That* meant that Dick Grayson was... _had been_...Robin. The Robin before Steph, the boy Robin, the boy _Wonder_. And now, now he was _Nightwing_.

The very thought made Tim shudder. He bit his lip guiltily, but he couldn't stop his body's reaction. Dick. _Dick_ in that tight, form-fitting costume, leaping across rooftops, saving the world...Tim groaned. God, if only he'd *known*.

A sudden thought occurred to him. There had been a time - a short, but definite period - when Nighting and Robin had been active simultaneously, hadn't there? Had Dick gone back and forth? Or...wait. Tim remembered a particular article, about Bruce Wayne taking in another orphan, a street kid...

His fingers flew over the keyboard as he opened the encrypted "DG" folder, impatiently typing in the password and getting it wrong twice before forcing himself to focus enough to get it right.

It didn't take long to find the article he wanted.

Tim stared at the black-haired boy's face. The kid looked sullen and uncomfortable, rather than happy to be taken in by one of the richest men in the world. Bruce beamed idiotically at the camera, one arm slung around his new ward's shoulders.

Tim remembered cutting out the article. At the time Tim had hated the kid, thinking he was an upstart, taking Dick's place, taking the attention away from Dick, where it _belonged_. Now he studied the articles more carefully, combing through them and putting the pieces together. Forming a picture of his idol's family, bit by painstaking bit.

The boy - Jason Todd was his name - had _died_. Tim's hands froze on the keys as he realized the implications. Jason Todd had been adopted by Bruce Wayne, had taken on the Robin mantle after Dick, and then, he'd...

If only Tim could find out how he'd *really* died. There was a cover story, of course, but surely it was false. Surely he'd died in the line of duty.

Taking a long breath, Tim drained the last few dregs of tea in his cup.

Jason had died.

 _Dick_ could have died.

Conner-

He cut off the thought, quick and sharp. _No_. Conner was invulnerable. He might not be as tough as Superman, but he still couldn't get hurt. He wasn't going to *die*. Hadn't Tim watched him throwing a huge tree trunk as easily if it had been a stick of kindling earlier that same night?

Speaking of which, he'd promised to look up what Conner should say to Robin about her mom. Opening a new window, he did a search, clicked a likely-looking link, and began to read, pausing occasionally to take notes.

It was late - or rather, early - by the time Tim finally shut down his laptop and went to bed.

~End of Year Two: Winter~

 

~~~


	6. Year Two: "In Bloom", Spring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When he was nine years old, young Timothy Drake's family decided to move to a small town in Kansas...
> 
>  
> 
> _"I...before you came here, I was." His heart was beating faster, now. The way it did when Kon kissed him, when- "I was alone. I mean, I had Ma and Pa, of course, but. I didn't know. I thought. I thought it was just how things were, how *I* was, that I would just be...alone."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 7094 words  
> Rating, this chapter: PG-13; (NC-17 overall)  
> Thanks to iesika, without whom this story would not exist, the_protagonist, who did more than the usual amount of hand-holding for this chapter, batstalker, who keeps me writing with her enthusiasm and her encouragement, and misszilla, who drew more art for me! This chapter is, as usual, grounded in the events portrayed in Geoff Johns' run on Teen Titans. There are also references to older arcs, particularly the "Death of Superman" arc and the first arc of the "Superman/Batman" comic, however, you do not need to read them to understand the story.

Conner usually left on Friday night and didn't return until late Sunday evening, so Tim was surprised one Sunday afternoon when he looked up from tinkering with the Kents' truck to see him descending from the sky (no matter how many times he saw it, it still thrilled him to the core).

He was even more surprised when he looked at Conner carefully. Conner's hair was longer, a distinctive curl hanging in the middle of his forehead, and the sleeves of his flannel shirt were a good half-an-inch too short. Tim had to glance up slightly further to meet his eyes, too, he noted with slight annoyance as Conner's feet touched the ground. "Conner?" he said. "What hap-" He got no further as Conner wrapped him in a fierce hug. "...Conner?"

" _Man_ , I missed you," said Conner.

"But-" Tim stopped himself from saying something stupid like, 'you've only been gone two days', and said instead, "What happened?"

"Let's go...let's go up to the Loft," suggested Conner.

"Okay," said Tim. "Let me just get cleaned up."

A few minutes later, they were sitting side-by-side on the fold-out orange couch in what they all called the Loft, a place in the barn set aside for Clark when he'd been younger, which he'd recently bequeathed to Conner. It hadn't taken Conner long to clean up the place, bringing in his own furniture and redecorating in his own style.

"Tell me," said Tim.

Conner nuzzled his ear. "So, on Saturday-"

"Yesterday-"

"For *you*, yeah...I got sucked into a wormhole portal thing."

Tim raised an eyebrow, catching his breath as Conner nipped at his earlobe. "Conner-"

"Tim, for you it's been a few days. For me it's been *months*. I...I _missed_ you, okay?"

Tim blinked and swallowed. "You did?" No one had ever said those words to him before.

"Well, *yeah*," said Conner, sounding more like the Conner Tim knew. " _Duh_. The future was cool in some ways, I mean the Legion was super-cool, and it was fun, but-" He pulled Tim close to his body, kissing his cheek, his neck, and making Tim shudder hard against his unyielding strength. "But *you* weren't there. I couldn't _wait_ to get back to you."

Tim squeezed his eyes shut hard. "I..." he started, but he wasn't sure what he wanted to say. Wasn't sure he *could* speak around the sudden lump in his throat. "I always miss you when you go away," he said finally. Part of him wanted to ask Conner more about the portal, the future, and the Legion, but all of that could wait.

"Yeah, but I don't go away for *months* at a time," said Conner, his hands creeping under Tim's shirt to trace over his chest.

"Sometimes it feels like it," admitted Tim, and then he couldn't say anything else, because Conner was kissing him, his mouth hard and hungry and yet gentle against Tim's.

* * *

"Mia," he said after everyone else had left the room.

She looked up at him. "What is it, Superboy?"

"Did you...would you rather not have known?"

She considered her answer for what seemed like a long time. Finally she said shrugged a little and said quietly, "I would rather know than not know."

"But...wouldn't it have been, well, easier?"

She smiled at him a little. "Easier? I guess so. But," she hesitated and went on, "I found out before I - I hurt someone else. At first I didn't want to get tested. I didn't *want* to know. But what if I hadn't known and I'd gotten someone else sick, just because I was too scared? I would have been...that would have been really selfish, wouldn't it?"

He frowned and blinked at her, then combed a hand back through his hair. "Yeah," he said after a moment, subdued. "Yeah, I guess it would have." Looking up, he saw she was still watching him curiously. "Thanks," he said.

"Sure," she replied, turning to leave.

"Hey," he called after her. "Could you tell Robin I want to talk to her?"

She gave him a nod and slipped out of the room.

Superboy sat down on the couch, staring unseeingly at the floor. Robin came in a minute later and said, "What's up?"

Kon took a breath, plucked a hair from his head, and held it out to her. "Here," he said. "Will that be enough? To test?"

She took the hair from him, glancing from it to his face. "You're ready? You're sure?"

He drew another breath and let it out before answering. "Yeah," he said. "I'd rather know than not know."

She nodded and drew a small vial from her belt, dropped the hair into it and tucked it away. "I'll have Oracle test it as soon as I get back."

"Thanks," said Kon. She reached out and squeezed his arm.

"You're doing the right thing," she said.

"I hope so," he replied, looking after her as she left him alone again. Giving himself a little shake, he headed to his room and pushed the "On" switch on his computer.

It was done. Robin would test his DNA and tell him for certain whether he really was part _Luthor_ , or whether it had been a sick joke after all. It was out of his hands.

He was surprised at how much better he felt.

The computer booted up with a little jingle, then gave a *ping* to tell him he had a new email. He opened the program, hoping it was from Tim, and frowned when the sender came up as "Snapdragon". "What the-"

A loud, high-pitched _shrieking_ filled the room. Kon clapped his hands over his ears, but not before a voice came through the speakers, saying something in a language he didn't know, but that was somehow familiar--

And everything went red.

* * *

He hadn't dragged Conner there since the first time. It had been clear from the start that the place freaked Conner out, but Tim hadn't understood why at first.

Tim hadn't agreed with all of President Luthor's policies, and he knew that Ma and Pa *hated* the man. But the politician had done a lot of good, too - a lot of charitable work when he'd been a businessman and he'd made some positive changes in his early time in office. Heck, Tim's *parents* had voted for him - by absentee ballot, of course. Luthor obviously wasn't the most honest of men. But...a _boogeyman_?

Then, only a few months later, the news had been _full_ of Luthor's psychological break. Apparently the man was a paranoid maniac who'd been dosing himself with a dangerous, illegal cocktail of high-powered steroids and _liquid kryptonite_. The man had actually put a bounty on Superman's head. He'd gone so far as to _attack_ Superman, endangering them all. If Batman hadn't intervened, so the stories went, they'd all be dead, destroyed by a giant comet made of kryptonite.

After that, Conner's paranoia and Ma's and Pa's dislike made a LOT more sense. Watching footage caught on White House security cameras of Luthor ranting against Superman, Tim hoped strenuously that Super _boy_ would stay under the maniac's radar. Especially when Luthor disappeared after the fiasco.

Tim had stayed away from the house for a few months, but eventually he'd gone back. He couldn't explain why, but somehow he knew that Luthor would never return here. That Luthor had rejected his life in Smallville.

Besides, he'd been coming here too long. It was too much *his* place, abandoned by its owner years ago. He knew his parents would think it was weird, and Ma and Pa would have worried, if they knew. But when Conner went away on the weekends, Tim would come back here, to sit and read, or work on one of his projects, or study, comfortably surrounded by the detritus of someone else's discarded life.

He was working on a birthday present for Conner when his phone buzzed.

"Tim?" Ma's voice sounded worried. "Can you come back to the farm, dear?"

"Of course, Ma. What's wrong?"

"Conner's home early," she said. "Something happened. He's all right, but..."

The way she trailed off sent Tim's stomach plummeting. "What happened, Ma?"

"I don't really know myself," she said. "Conner's not hurt, but he...he's upset."

"I'll be there as soon as I can," he said, already moving to pack up the backpack he'd brought with him.

"Thank you," she said. "See you in a bit."

"See you soon, Ma. Bye."

He covered the ground at a run, cutting through the new green fields, the spring sunlight warm on his back after the cool damp of the basement. He ran until he was gasping for air, his lungs burning. What could have happened? Ma said that Conner wasn't hurt, _but_ \- and that 'but' scared Tim more than anything else. Had something hit him on the head? Maybe put him into a coma? No, Ma had said he was 'upset'. But she'd sounded so _worried_.

There was a familiar pain in his chest, and it had nothing to do with aerobic exercise. He remembered the last time he'd felt it, when Pa had collapsed in the middle of the field and had to be rushed to the hospital. Pa had nearly _died_. He and Ma had both been upset by Clark's disappearance in the wake of Doomsday's attack -

Tim stopped so fast that he almost fell.

No _wonder_ Ma and Pa had been upset. They'd thought Clark was *dead*! Tim had been shocked by how quickly they'd given up hope. Not three days after Superman's fall, they'd been talking about Clark like he was already dead. And when Tim had tried to point out how many people were still being discovered alive buried under the rubble of the city, Ma had actually started to *cry*.

Ma and Pa gone to Metropolis the next day, Tim remembered, supposedly to help with 'search efforts' and also to see Clark's fiancee'. Tim had met the woman once or twice when she'd come to the farm. She'd been deeply intimidating.

It wasn't until after they'd returned that Pa collapsed. Thinking of it still hurt. Tim had been in school, but he'd rushed to the hospital as soon as he'd heard. They wouldn't even let him into the room at first, because he wasn't 'family'.

When he finally got in to see him, Pa had looked so _frail_ against the white sheets. So _old_.

Tim shook himself, starting to run again, pieces falling into place in his memories as his feet struck the ground.

Superman had fallen in the winter of Tim's thirteenth year. He'd been in school then, too. One of the other teachers had run into his History class and gasped out, "Superman's _dead_!" Mr. Campbell hadn't believed him at first, but he'd turned on the TV. All the students gathered around it, watching as the footage of the half-destroyed city played across the screen. And the image they kept coming back to, again and again: Superman's body, broken and bloodied amidst the chaos, until the teacher had turned off the TV and told them all to go home.

Now the memory made Tim's stomach roil. _He came back_ , he reminded himself. But...Conner wasn't as strong as Superman. If something had happened to _Conner_...

Tim kept running.

* * *

"Conner?" Kon turned to face the wall, away from the door. The gentle knock came again.

"Go away," he muttered.

"Conner, I..." Tim sounded nervous. "Won't you at least _talk_ -"

"Go AWAY!" he yelled, and for a moment everything went red. He gasped and squeezed his eyes shut, slapping his hands over them as his momentary rage transmuted into terror. "Oh god, just leave me _alone_."

There was no reply, just a soft, almost inaudible sigh. Conner waited. If he stretched his hearing a little, he could hear Tim's heart beating steadily outside his door. But Tim didn't say anything else. Conner put down his hands and went back to staring out the window.

It felt like hours later when there was another tap on his door. "Conner?" came Ma's voice. "Honey, Raven healed Robin's leg. She's all right. I thought you would want to know."

Kon shuddered. Raven had healed Robin's leg. Raven was supposed to be the creepy one, the one they needed to watch out for, but *she'd* healed Robin's leg.

Nausea rose in him. He could still feel the way it had shattered in his hand, so _easily_. Robin had thrown a kick at him and he'd caught it and just...just squeezed it, _crushing_ it and tossing her aside like she was so much garbage. To the _thing_ in control of his body at that moment, she *had* been. She'd been nothing but an obstacle.

"Yeah," he said hoarsely, because if he didn't say something, Ma would keep talking until he did. "Thanks."

"Dinner's ready," she said, her voice quieter. "Come down and eat with us, Tim."

"No thank you," came his reply. "I'm not hungry."

For the next three days, Kon listened to the quiet heartbeat outside his door. It never went further away than the bathroom down the hall. Krypto scratched at his window a few times, until Kon had yelled at him and he'd flown away, whimpering. Kon could hear him now, padding around the kitchen and getting under Ma's feet.

Every day Ma brought up food on trays, one for Tim and one for Kon. Kon hated letting her good cooking go to waste, but the smell made his stomach turn and his gorge rise, like he'd been exposed to kryptonite or something.

On the third day, as the first rays of sun were making their way into his window, he heard Tim sigh and say, "Conner."

 _Leave me alone,_ thought Conner, but he didn't say anything.

"I...before you came here, I was." His heart was beating faster, now. The way it did when Kon kissed him, when- "I was _alone_. I mean, I had Ma and Pa, of course, but. I didn't know. I thought. I thought it was just how things were, how *I* was, that I would just be...alone." Despite himself, Kon found himself focusing his eyes, squinting through the wall. He could see Tim's back, Tim's head hanging down. "I'm kind of. I'm. I'm totally in love with you. You know that, right? I mean-" He stopped, because somehow Kon had crossed the room and opened the door and was staring down at him. Tim looked up at him, eyes wide and heart pounding. "I love you. Conner, _please._ " He stood up slowly, as though Kon were a frightened animal. "Please," he whispered again.

Kon stared at him. "I..." he croaked, his throat dry. He swallowed. "I don't want to hurt you," he said.

Tim moved forward, then, lifting his arms and wrapping them around Kon, pulling himself close to Kon's chest. "I'll take the risk," he said. "It's worth it."

Something broke inside Kon, sudden, hot tears spilling from his eyes. "I hurt them. He made me hurt them."

Tim's arms tightened around him. "Tell me."

Kon opened his mouth, but the only sounds he could make were harsh sobs that bore no resemblance to words. Tim tightened his arms, squeezing Kon, then pulled him toward the bed. Kon stumbled with him, finally letting go and tumbling onto the mattress and reinforced frame Pa had built for him. Tim crawled in after him, pulling his body close to Kon's.

It seemed like a long time before he could manage to speak. Tim didn't say a word, just cradled him close, his heart beating hard against Kon's chest as he stroked Kon's skull where his hair used to be. Finally Kon turned his face out of the pillow, sniffled, and tried to explain.

"Months ago, I got a message. I thought it was a hoax, a _joke_."

"What did it say?" Tim's voice was low and neutral.

"I already knew I wasn't just a straight clone of Superman. There was a human's DNA mixed in, too. Turned out the DNA was Westfield's - the jerk who'd run the project that created me. I wasn't happy about that, but I got over it. Westfield was dead, and it didn't matter if he'd been a jerk, I figured, 'cause the other half of my DNA was _Superman's_ , and that was the only half that mattered. But..." He closed his eyes.

"The message said that....the other half of your DNA wasn't Westfield's after all?"

Kon flinched and nodded once.

"Whose DNA did it say it was, Conner?" asked Tim gently.

Kon swallowed. He could hardly force the name past the nausea that rose in his throat. "L-Lex Luthor," he said at last.

Beside him, Tim gasped.

"I thought it *couldn't* be true," Kon went on before Tim could say anything. "Robin wanted to test it, to test *me*, but...I wouldn't let her. I was...I was _afraid_." He shook his head hard. "If only I'd had her test it, if only I'd _known_ , maybe I could have - I could have *stopped* it..."

Tim's hands traced over his cheeks, brushing away tears. "Stopped what, Conner? What _happened_?"

"I'd decided - the new Speedy said something that made me realize I should - I told Robin she could test my DNA. I gave her some of my hair and then went to check my email. And he - there was - he -" He was shaking so hard that the whole bed was vibrating. Tim wrapped his arms around Kon's chest and buried his face in Kon's neck. "He did something to me. To my _mind_. I could see everything that was happening, but I couldn't *stop* it. I - I _crushed_ Robin's leg. I almost killed Wonder Girl. I *tried* to kill her. And then, I went - I flew - and _he_ was there. He called me his _son_. And I called him...'father'."

"Lex Luthor." Kon had never heard Tim's voice sound like that before, so cold and hard.

Kon nodded. "He was wearing that power suit. And he told me to k- _kill_ them, and I - I _tried_ to. It was like being in a nightmare, Tim. I couldn't stop it. I couldn't stop _any_ of it, no matter how hard I fought against it. I was his _fucking puppet_."

Tim's body was shaking against his, and when he lifted his head, Kon could see that he'd gone pale. "I'll kill him," Tim whispered.

It almost made Kon smile. "Tim," he said, "You can't kill Lex Luthor."

Tim just _looked_ at him for a moment, then gave a small nod. "Not yet," he said.

Kon opened his mouth and closed it again and shook his head. "I'm scared, Tim," he admitted.

Pressing close again, Tim said, "Why?"

"What if he does it again? What if I'd checked my email while I was _here_? I could have *killed* you and Ma and Pa, Tim! I still could!" He pulled away from Tim's embrace, folding his arms around himself. "I shouldn't even *be* here. God, now I understand why Clark didn't want me to tell you the secret, what he meant when he said he was trying to _protect_ you...I should go somewhere far away, somewhere where there's no one I can hurt-" He stopped as Tim reached out and put a hand on Kon's mouth.

"It's not going to happen again," said Tim flatly.

"Bu-" Kon started to say against Tim's hand.

"Conner. I'm going to find out *exactly* what he did to you. And I'm going to make sure it Never. Happens. Again."

Kon shook his head and tugged Tim's hand away from his mouth. "It's not enough, Tim. He didn't just mess with my mind, he's - he's _part_ of me! What if one day I just go nuts? What if-"

"It doesn't matter. Conner, if it were that easy, he wouldn't have _had_ to control you!"

"I - What?"

Tim gripped his shoulders. " _Think_ about it, Conner! The only way he could _force_ you to do what he wanted was to _control your mind_. If you had even, even an *ounce* of insanity, he wouldn't have had to do that. He would have found a way to turn you evil for real, to make you really _his_. But he *couldn't*. Because you're too _good_. You're good through-and-through, and Lex Luthor _can't do anything to change that_!" His eyes burned into Kon's.

"I-" Kon couldn't think of anything to say in the face of Tim's conviction. "I. You believe that."

"I *do*," said Tim. He shook Kon by the shoulders, or tried to.

"But-"

"No," said Tim harshly. "Shut up and listen to me. You're going to come downstairs and eat something, and then you're going to get some actual _sleep_ , and *then* we'll worry about Lex _fucking_ Luthor."

Kon stared down at Tim, a small smile tugging at his lips in spite of himself.

"What?" said Tim irritably.

"Except for the swearing part, you sounded _exactly_ like Ma just now," said Kon.

A shadow of relief flashed through Tim's eyes just before he scowled. "I did *not*!"

[](http://improvinspi.livejournal.com/5760.html)  
_'Comfort', by[improvinspi](http://improvinspi.livejournal.com/5760.html). Please do not re-post without permission from the artist._

* * *

He didn't have much time. Conner had been sleeping all day, after eating a much smaller than usual breakfast, and he'd be waking up any minute.

Fortunately, this shouldn't take long.

Tim picked up the fireplace poker and hefted it in his hand. It was one of the few things he'd found upstairs, buried in trash in the corner next to the fireplace. Now he looked around the basement and tightened his grip around the cold, heavy metal. His hand shook as he raised the poker over his head, held it there for a moment, then brought it crashing down on the hurricane lantern.

The thing exploded, glass, oil and fire flying everywhere. Tim jumped back, then swung the poker again, smashing it into the low-powered microscope on the corner of the table, the Bunsen burner, the pile of rusted metal that used to be an erector set. "You hurt him," he hissed, grunting with effort as the iron poker splintered the side of the half-rotten bookshelf. Tim might not have super-strength, but for years he'd worked in the fields alongside Pa, taking the heaviest work whenever he could. He was strong enough for *this*.

"I'll kill you," he said. "I'll kill you, you son of a bitch. You'll never hurt him again. You'll never _touch_ him-" He jumped back. The books had caught fire, and it was spreading quickly. He glanced around, panting. His eye fell on the pile of computer cards stacked in the far corner, still away from the spreading fire. With a last, mighty swing, Tim cracked the table in half, then threw the poker as hard as he could, ran over and grabbed the stack of computer cards, shoved them in the large pocket of his jacket, and bolted up the stairs and out of the house. Once he'd gotten a fair distance away, he turned. He could see the glow of fire licking at the floor through the cracked and dirty windows. Panting, he stared, then took a step forward.

It wasn't enough. He felt his hands curl into fists, his whole body straining with useless rage as the flames flickered and went higher.

Movement in the corner of his eye. He turned to see Conner landing next to him. "Jesus, Tim, what have you done?"

Tim grabbed Conner and hugged him with every last ounce of strength in his body. "He _hurt_ you," he said, fury choking him. "He hurt you and I can't *do* anything-"

"Tim," said Conner. " _Tim_ , jeez, your place, your secr-"

"It was *his* place," said Tim. "It was - I'm going to take everything from him. I'm going to *destroy* him-"

" _Tim_ , you're scaring me, man." Tim went silent, taking deep breaths and trying to release the rage. Conner didn't need his anger right now, even if it was on his behalf. He needed Tim to be the calm one, the rational and even one.

Tim took another breath and loosened his hold. Stepped back. "I'm sorry," he said.

"It's okay," said Conner. "It's okay, man. I-" He stopped short and let go of Tim, both of them turning as another flutter of movement caught their attention.

Superman descended from the sky, silhouetted against the bright, red-orange flames that were rapidly taking over the house. His arms were crossed over his chest, and he looked... _regal_. Tim swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry.

He looked at each of them in turn. His face was in shadow, so it was difficult to tell his expression, but Tim thought he was disapproving. Then he turned and gazed at the fire for a long moment, then back at the two of them. He lowered his arms to his sides.

"Conner," he said.

"I'm-" Conner swallowed. "You know what I - _who_ I am, don't you."

Superman gave a slow nod.

Conner looked away from him, from both of them. "I - I'm dangerous," he said. "I shouldn't be around Ma and Pa anymore, I-"

"Conner-"

"It's all right, Clark. I get it. I'm the *last* person you want around-"

" _Conner_." Superman - Clark - stepped forward and gripped Conner's shoulders. "It wasn't your fault."

Conner looked up at him, wide-eyed. "B-But-" Suddenly, Clark pulled him into a rough hug. Conner looked shocked, his hands moving awkwardly like he wasn't quite sure if it was okay to hug back.

Clark said something in a low voice, his words covered by the roar of the fire as the roof caved in, though Tim strained to hear them. Conner went still and closed his eyes for a moment, his arms lifting to return the hug. Then he let go, looking away again and blinking hard. "Thanks," he said, his voice rough. Clark put a heavy hand on his shoulder for a moment before letting it drop back to his side. He glanced at the house again, now a burning skeleton of its former self, and looked at Tim. There was a wealth of understanding in his eyes.

"He wasn't always..." Clark began, his voice soft enough that Tim took a step forward to catch the words. Clark took a breath and sighed. "Before he grew...twisted, Lex was one of the most brilliant people I've ever been privileged to know." He looked sheepish. It was a strange look, as though Clark Kent had dressed up in Superman's costume. "I have something of a weakness for brilliant people," he said. "Maybe you can understand why I was...concerned when Conner befriended you."

Tim felt his eyes go wide. He swallowed hard and nodded.

"I'm glad to know that my concern was misplaced." He smiled at Tim, Superman's beaming smile, and Tim felt the almost physical pull of the man, the way the smile seemed to warm him down to his toes. A small part of his mind considered potential research into the area of Kryptonian pheromones. The rest was blushing and looking at the ground, at Conner-

Conner was rolling his eyes. It made Tim smile, the spell broken. He turned back to Superman. "Thank you," he said quietly.

Superman nodded in acknowledgment. The fire was dying down. Tim had known it wouldn't spread, not with the spring rains they'd had recently. "I'll see you two back at the farm," said Superman, and lifted into the air.

When he was out of sight, Conner turned to Tim and held out an arm. "Want a lift?" he said.

Tim grinned, relief bubbling up in him that Conner still trusted himself enough to use his powers. "Always."

* * *

"You're *sure* you don't want to invite anyone else, dear?" Ma carefully smoothed the chocolate frosting around the edge of the cake. The smell made Kon's mouth water.

He swallowed and shook his head. "Ma, it will be just like last year. Just Pa and you and Tim and me." A wet nose pushed at his hand. "And Krypto," he added, rubbing the dog's ears until his tail thumped against the floor and shook the kitchen.

Sighing, she shook her head slightly as she handed Kon the knife to lick and put a clear glass bell over the cake. "Last year, Tim didn't _know_ ," she said. "I thought this year, maybe Robin-"

"I don't think I can - I can't face her - " Kon stopped and looked down at the table. "It's my birthday, and I want it to be just...just us, okay?"

The doorbell rang for the *front* door. Since the only people that ever came to the front door were usually trying to sell vacuum cleaners or get them to vote for someone, Kon didn't rush. Krypto jumped up, barking, and raced out of the kitchen.

"I'll get it!" called Tim. Kon heard the door open, and deliberately turned his attention back to the remainder of the chocolate frosting until he heard Tim's voice again, this time with a weird note in it, "Um, Conner? Someone's here to-"

There was a flurry of barks, and then the kitchen door swung open. "HappyBirthdayKon!" said Bart, zipping in and throwing his arms around Kon before anyone quite knew what was happening. Krypto was right on his heels, barking happily and trying to jump up on Bart.

"Uh - thanks-" started Kon.

Tim stuck his head in the swinging kitchen door. "Did a - oh, here you are," he said, and came in.

"Um, Tim, this is my friend, Bart. Bart, this is Tim."

Tim took a quick breath and nodded, focusing intently on Bart's face. "Nice to meet you, Bart," he said. He held out his hand and Bart let go of Kon to grab Tim's hand and shake it vigorously. As soon as he released it, Krypto floated up and began licking Bart's face.

"Nice to meet you, Tim! Down, boy," he wiped his face with his sleeve, fruitlessly pushing the super-canine away until Kon grabbed him by the collar and pulled him down. "I just came by to give Kon his birthday present and I-" he stopped and looked around him for a second, frowning. "Where - oh, I forgot it, berightback!" He was gone.

"Um-" said Kon.

"Here you go!" said Bart, the kitchen door still swinging behind him. He handed Kon a beautifully-wrapped package in blue paper with a red bow. "I read a book about wrapping presents and it said-"

"Bart!" Kon said, stopping the flow of words. "Would you...do you want to have dinner with us?"

"I, oh, I can I? I mean, I should go home and Miss Manners says you shouldn't invite yourself over but that cake smells really good and-"

Kon caught Tim's eye and smiled helplessly. "Yeah, if it's okay with Ma. I mean, I'd like you to stay, if you can."

"Of course it's all right, dear," said Ma. "It's your birthday." Her eyes got distant for a moment, then she went over to the freezer and took out another package to thaw. "Do you like lasagna, Bart?"

"Yes! I-"

"I thought we were having fried chicken?" asked Kon.

"We are, dear. We're also having lasagna," said Ma.

"Lemme just ask if I can-" said Bart, and he was gone again.

Silence reigned in the kitchen. Krypto sniffed curiously at the spot where Bart had been a moment ago. "Well," said Tim after a breath. "He's very-"

"Sorry it took me so long! I had to finish my homework *and* do my chores," said Bart, making a face.

Kon couldn't help but laugh at Tim's expression. "You get used to him," he said.

Tim glanced at him and raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

Kon shrugged. "Sort of?"

"Wait, he knows, right?" Bart's eyes were wide as they darted from Kon to Tim to Ma and back to Tim. "I mean, I didn't just blow everything, right?"

"He knows, Bart," said Ma, but she put her hands on her hips and continued sternly, "But he might not have. You must be more careful, child."

"Oh - oh, I'm sorry Mrs. Kent, you're right-"

"Call me 'Ma', Bart."

"Okay! And you can call me - Bart!" He looked around as everyone laughed, even Tim. "What do you guys want to do until dinner?"

Kon glanced at Tim. Tim had been trying to get him to go out and do things with him for a couple of weeks, now, but Kon had mainly stayed home and moped around the house.

"We could...we could go to my house and play with the Eee," Tim offered hesitantly. "If you guys want to, I mean-"

"Cool! I have an Eee, too. It's *hard*, isn't it?"

Tim blinked. "Hard?"

"Well, it depends on the game, I mean. Most of them don't register it when I move 'cause I go too fast. Robin said it was good training and I should-" He stopped abruptly and looked at Kon out of the corner of his eye.

Kon swallowed hard. "How is she?" he asked.

"She'sfine!" said Bart. "Raven healed her and she's just fine and kicking all kinds of assImeanbutt just like she always does but she misses you and-" He stopped again, looked down at the floor, back up at Kon, and said, "We all miss you."

"Bart..." Kon grabbed him into a hug again, which Bart returned enthusiastically. "I miss you guys, too. I just...I need some time, okay?"

"Yeah, I can see that, it was kinda a double-whammy, huh? I mean, you didn't even *know* about the whole Lex Luthor thing-" Kon flinched _hard_ at the name despite himself, "and then he made you get all heat-vision-y and shave your head-"

"Bart." Tim's voice cut through Bart's words sharply. "Let's go to my house and see if there are any Eee games you can play, okay?"

"Yeah, okay, good idea," said Bart, disappearing through the screen. He was back before it slammed shut, catching it and saying, "Where's your house again?"

"Just down the road, but-"

He was gone again, then back, "That big mansion? Whoa, it's *huge*!"

"-it has a-"

The door swung open again. Krypto darted through it before it could close. "I can't get in, there's a-"

"-security system," finished Tim.

"That's what I was saying!" said Bart. "Though I could probably vibrate through the wall," he added thoughtfully.

"Bart, we're coming, okay?" Kon stood up and held out an arm to Tim. Tim shot a look at Bart, then stepped into Kon's embrace.

Bart watched with interest. "Oh, are you guys, like, an item?"

Tim blushed and Kon grinned. "Yeah," he said to Bart. "We're dating." He heard Tim's heartbeat jump.

"Oh, that's cool! There were *lots* of books on gay issues and the homosexual experience at the library. So if you need any recommendations-"

"We'll manage-" Kon started.

" _Which_ library?" asked Tim. "I didn't think Keystone was that-"

"Oh no, it was the San Francisco Public Library," said Bart. "So it makes sense that they'd have a big section on that topic, right? They even had some erotica-"

"You read all the books on homosexuality in the San Francisco Public Library?" Tim said, obviously taken aback.

"I read all the _books_ in the library," said Bart.

Tim blinked several times. "When?"

"When? Oh, when did I read them all? *Ages* ago, right after I joined the Teen Titans."

"Oh," said Tim faintly. "So, last September, then."

"Yeah, about then," Bart shrugged.

"The - the *whole* library?"

"Yeah. It was an adventure. A _lot_ of adventures!"

Kon chuckled as he pushed open the screen door without touching it and flew them out. "Come on, let's go, guys. See you later, Ma!" he called back. Then he murmured in Tim's ear, "Jealous?"

"Yes!" said Tim.

* * *

They didn't play the Eee very long. Bart was far better than either of them at every game Tim owned - except that he frequently moved too fast for the sensor to register. The fifth time it happened, Tim said, "I wonder if we could make it more sensitive?"

Bart shrugged. "I'd mess with it, but I'm scared that if I took it apart I couldn't get it back together again."

"We could try with mine," said Tim. "I can get another one."

Bart grinned at him. "If you're cool with it. Man, I wish _I_ were rich! Then I wouldn't have to worry about eating people out of house and home."

Tim was silent as he examined the controller carefully. Not looking up from it, he said after a moment, "We usually have extra food in the fridge here. If you want to stop by sometimes, you could help me keep it from going to waste."

Conner's eyebrows darted up, and Tim shot him a warning look. It was half true - his parents had the maids keep the fridge stocked with certain foods all the time, in case they came home at short notice. Every two weeks the maids cleaned it out, throwing everything away and replacing it all with fresh versions. Tim had taken to bringing the still perfectly good food to Ma just before the maids could get rid of it, but he could put some aside for Bart. Maybe he should leave a note for the maids telling them to start buying extra.

"Really?" said Bart. "I don't wanna impose-"

"You'd be doing me a favor," said Tim. Possibly he should just just tell the maids to start buying twice as much food as usual.

"That would be sweet! And I could come and visit and we could play-"

"Speaking of which," said Tim, "Let's see what we can do with this controller."

They spent the rest of the afternoon tinkering with the Eeemotes, until Ma called Conner on his cell.

As Conner flew Tim back to the farmhouse, Tim said, "I'm sorry."

"Sorry? What for?" asked Conner with a frown.

"We practically ignored you all afternoon. At your own birthday. I'm sorry if you were bored."

"Nah," Conner grinned at at him. "It was neat watching you guys. You're really good with Bart. I haven't seen him this, I dunno, focused? in a long time. You actually got him to be almost calm for awhile. Usually he isn't like that unless he's *really* hungry or someone's life is in danger."

Tim shrugged. "He's...he knows _so_ much. But, he doesn't *know* what he knows. He doesn't know how to put it together, how to extrapolate from the information he already has. He's like a walking _Wikipedia_ , but he doesn't know how to problem-solve."

Conner nodded. "Robin's always tried to get him to _listen_ , but it's hard for him. He drives her crazy sometimes."

They arrived at the farmhouse before Tim had a chance to reply.

* * *

The meal was truly magnificent. Bart ate twice as much as everyone else, of course, but thanks to Ma's lasagna, there was plenty for everyone. Afterward, Tim and Ma wouldn't let Kon help clean up, either, telling him to stay put while they got out the ice cream, plates, and Ma's magnificent chocolate cake.

And when they sang "Happy birthday to you!" Kon stared into the candle flames and wished with every fiber of his being that he would never have to hurt one of his friends again before blowing them out.

"What did you wish for?" asked Bart.

Kon shrugged. "It's a secret," he said.

Bart pushed his gift into Kon's hands. "Please open it while they're cutting the cake!" Kon laughed and ripped open the bright paper.

Inside lay a sketchbook. "I'm not much of an artist," said Kon wryly, and Bart chuckled.

"Open it, silly!"

Kon lifted the cover and caught his breath, a pang shooting through him as he saw Robin. She was beautifully rendered, smirking at him from the first page and posing like a model for a fashion shoot, her braid trailing over one shoulder. Kon blinked and turned the page.

It was Gar, caught halfway between beast and man as he transformed into a tiger, leaping at something just off the page. The following page was Cyborg, looking intently at some readout on one of his cybernetic arms.

"Is it okay?" asked Bart anxiously. "I thought you might miss us, too, so I-"

"It's perfect," said Kon quietly. "Thanks, Bart."

Bart beamed. "You're welcome!" He turned to Tim. "What did you get him?"

"Nothing so spectacular," said Tim, still peering at the sketchbook upside down. "That's a hard act to follow, Bart." Setting down a plate with a huge slice of cake in front of the speedster, he took out a small package and tossed it to Kon. "Think you can open it with your TTK?"

Kon grinned. Tim was always trying to get him to use his powers. Concentrating, Kon unstuck the tape without tearing the paper, making it unfold like a flower in his hand. Tim sucked in a breath, his heartbeat picking up a little. Kon smirked, then looked down at the black and red device.

"It's an MP3-player," said Tim. "It's like mine - homemade, custom operating system, twice as much storage as anything else for the size-" He would have gone on, but Kon cut him off with a hug.

"I needed a new one! Ever since my last one got crushed-"

"I know," said Tim, slightly muffled against his shoulder. "There's a gift certificate on the inside of the wrapping paper, too; codes for several different sites, and I put some of your favorites on it, and audiobooks I thought you might like-"

"Audiobooks!" groaned Bart, "Man, they're so *slow*!"

Tim pulled away and looked at him curiously. "Why don't you listen to them on fast-forward?"

Bart blinked. "I never thought of that!"

Kon realized that Krypto was sniffing curiously at his new MP3-player and closed his hand over it protectively. "Oh no you don't!" he said. "This isn't a chewtoy, mutt!" He looked at his friends, at Ma, who was scooping vanilla ice cream onto the plates and Pa who was taking a sip of coffee, and smiled. "Thanks, guys," he said.

"You're welcome!" said Bart. "Happy birthday!"

"Happy birthday, Conner," echoed Tim with his tiny smile.

Kon reached for his hand, just to watch that smile widen slightly, to see the blush creep into his cheeks and hear his heart jump. "Thanks," he said again, then let go of Tim's hand so he could dig in to the cake.

 

~End of Year Two: Spring~

 

~~~


	7. Year Two: Sidestory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This couldn't be happening. Steph's hands felt numb as cold shock raced through her, and she forced herself to *breathe*, to oxygenate her limbs and extremities. "No," she whispered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word Count this chapter: 1446 words  
> Rating: NC-17 this chapter  
> This is a little extra part for you guys. You'll find a bit of Robin's backstory in this one. This chapter parallels the events at the beginning of Teen Titans issue #29 (pre-Nu 52 version, of course).

 

 

  
_"Robin", by[shinigrace](http://shinigrace.livejournal.com/10211.html). Please do not re-post without the artist's permission._

"It's fine, Bruce. I'll catch a ride home with someone else. Yeah. I hope you find him." Steph sighed and flipped her phone shut, still gazing out the window. The city spread out below her like a jeweled blanket, the lights glittering against the darkness. It was a little odd having such a visible headquarters when she was used to the secrecy of the Batcave, but Steph had to admit that Titan's Tower had its perks.

"Hey, Stephanie," came a voice from behind her - a voice at once familiar and totally _not_. She whirled around, cape flaring, just as _he'd_ taught her ( _it's a distraction, and also serves to make you look more impressive_ ). "I was here **first** ," said the intruder. She stared.

He was a big guy - not as big as _Bruce_ , of course, but still *big* and tough-looking in his boots and red helmet.

Stephanie wasn't impressed. She'd taken down bigger.

"I've heard of you," she said. "The Red Hood." Her eyes narrowed. "You're a killer," she sneered. "Just another _thug_ -" She took a defensive position as he lifted his hands, but all he did was open the shell of his helmet. He had another mask underneath, a green domino.

"Maybe so," he said as he ripped open his shirt, a flash of red showing under it. "I was born on the streets, after all." His pants fell a moment later to pool around his ankles, revealing tights beneath. He took a step forward as Stephanie stared.

He was dressed like Robin.

"I grew up in the alleyways of Gotham. Until _Bruce_ took me in, that is."

This couldn't be happening. Steph's hands felt numb as cold shock raced through her, and she forced herself to *breathe*, to oxygenate her limbs and extremities. "No," she whispered.

"I clawed my way up," he growled. "I trained and fought and did *everything* he told me to - at least at first. They said I wasn't *tough* enough to be Robin." His posture shifted. "And you think *you* are, little girl?" He dove for her.

Attacking her. He was. _Attacking_ her.

Her body moved of its own accord, instincts and training taking over even as her brain froze, stuck on the idea that Jason Todd was here, alive, dressed as Robin...and *attacking her*.

"I am!" she said defiantly, but it sounded thin, weak in her own ears. "I worked just as hard as you, I-"

"You're just some little girl from the suburbs," he said. "Some kid playing _dress up_. First in that stupid purple costume-"

"It was EGGPLANT!" yelled Stephanie, flinging a batarang at him and dodging. He caught the thing, so she activated the shock function, but apparently his gloves had a coating of rubber or something non-conductive. He laughed and threw it back at her, forcing her to dodge again, and not the direction she wanted to.

"You wouldn't *stop*," he said, coming after her inexorably. "You kept going out there, risking your life, until he *had* to take you in or watch you get *killed*. Was that your plan all along, Stephanie? Was that your ambition from the start? To be the next Robin?" His mocking tone was unbearable. "Or was it to be _Mrs._ Batman someday?"

"Fuck you," she screamed, goaded beyond endurance and going on the offensive at last. "It wasn't like that! It was *never* like that!"

"Then what *was* it like, Stephanie? Your father was a small-time crook, and you're a small-time sidekick. You'll never be anything else."

She laughed at him then, swinging into a high kick. "And what about you? What costume are *you* wearing right now?"

He caught her leg and threw her down, pinning her. "I wasn't good enough. I died. I was a _failure_ ," he snarled. "But I just beat *you*. What does that make *you*, kid?"

He was *strong*. She struggled against him, trying every way she knew to break his grip. "I'm holding back," she smirked at him. "What's *your* excuse?"

For a split second he looked outraged, but there was a flash of something like respect in his eyes at the same time. "Mouthy little bitch, aren't you?" He bounced her head against the floor, and she saw stars.

"I learned from...the best," she managed to get out.

"Yeah, dear Dickie, running in to teach you everything he knew-"

"No," she said. "I learned from *you*, Jason."

His hands tightened. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"The first thing I saw in the Batcave - the first thing he _showed_ me - was your Memorial," she said, and snorted. "It was practically a *shrine*."

He was frowning. "What?"

"Don't you know about that? He's got one of your suits hanging in a glass case there. A metal plaque and everything. 'Jason Todd: A Good Soldier'." She stopped struggling, staring up into his eyes. "Dick's never been anything but Nightwing to me. *You* were Robin. The martyred Robin. The dead Robin. He showed me _hours_ of videos with you. Training, he called it. I was too reckless, he told me. Too much *like* you...but also not enough. Because no matter what I did, no matter how hard I fought or trained, I could never touch you, never _reach_ you. I _hated_ you. At first." She stopped, swallowing.

"At first?" he whispered.

She felt her body quickening under him, his strong hands holding her wrists to the ground, his legs wrapped around hers, his face so close..."Yeah," she said, suddenly breathless. "He made me watch you, made me study you. Until I _knew_ you. Until I...until I *wanted* you." His hands spasmed around her wrists, but he didn't speak. She was panting, now. "I wanted you. I _wanted_ you, and you were *dead*. Dead and rotting in the *ground*, Jason." Suddenly she was fighting him again, pulling and ripping at his unbreakable grip. She was giving away too much. She needed to get _away_. "You were just a stupid *kid*, mouthy, bratty little *punk*. And I never even got a chance to meet you. And now you're here, and I-" she caught her breath, "and I-" She wasn't going to fucking cry-

He was kissing her, his mouth hard and angry on hers. "You don't know me!" he said, breaking away. "You've got some weird idea of me, of what you want me to be-"

"Shut UP!" she screamed, pushing her head up, her mouth crashing against his so hard that she tasted blood on the inside of her lip. He kissed her like he was trying to eat her alive. She couldn't think anymore. The world was reduced to his legs, pushing and shoving between hers, not just holding her down now, but with *intent*. His mouth on hers, the bitter flavor of cigarettes and desperation giving an edge to the kiss that just made it better. She arched up against him, rocking into him.

"Fuck," he said against her mouth, then her ear as he bit her neck. She whimpered and bucked. "Fuck," he said again. "You remembered me," he said. "You - you wanted-"

"I wanted to kill the Joker," she said, low and clear. "I wanted to _kill_ him for taking you *away*-"

"Jesus." He let go of her wrists to grab her legs, sliding his hands up her tights.

"I heard you'd come back," she said. "I heard it but I never *believed* it. But now you're _here_ -"

"Stephanie," he muttered. "Stephanie. Robin." She pushed at him and this time he let her roll him over. She straddled him and stared down into his face.

"You're alive, Jason. You're _alive_. Don't you understand what a miracle that is?" She knew the others could walk in at any moment, and it was amazing how much she didn't care. She _couldn't_ care when he was staring up at her with hunger and something like awe in his eyes. Rolling her hips, she ground down against him.

" _God_ ," he whispered.

" _Robin_ ," she said. Leaning down until her face was inches from his, she said slowly, "Unless you have any objection, I'm going to ride you until we both come screaming." His eyes were wide and shocked. He shook his head. "And then you're coming with me back to the Batcave." He started to shake his head at that, but she rolled her hips again, making him groan. "Yes," she said, her voice firm. "You're coming with me." Closing the distance between them, she kissed him, hard and then tender. When she pulled away at last, his eyes were closed and he was panting. She waited, not speaking.

He opened his eyes and bit his lip. "Okay," he said.

[](http://shinigrace.livejournal.com/10994.html)  
_"Steph and Jay", by[shinigrace](http://shinigrace.livejournal.com/10994.html). Please do not re-post without the artist's permission._

 

~End of Year Two: Sidestory~


	8. Year Two: "In Bloom", Summer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Here." Conner pressed something into Tim's hand. "Call the Titans!" he said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word Count this chapter: 7060 words  
> Rating: PG-13 this chapter (NC-17 overall)  
> Thanks, as always, to iesika and all of you that comment and tell me how much you like the story. You guys are the reason I keep writing this. The next chapter will wrap up Year Two. This chapter relies particularly heavily on existing scenes and dialog from Teen Titans. I've tried to re-imagine it in the context of this universe, but I wanted to give the extra nod to certain scenes, especially Lex Luthor's lines, which are almost verbatim from the comic.

He knew Tim was worried about him. He wished he knew what to say to reassure him, but the truth was, Kon didn't know if he *wanted* to go back to the Teen Titans. He didn't really know _what_ he wanted.

And yeah, okay, the whole...thing...with Raven, where she had taken him inside his own mind and helped him destroy that part of him Luthor had built in to control him with and then showed him his _own fucking soul_...that had helped. Kon was slightly less nervous that Luthor would just call him up one day and turn him against everyone he loved, _again_. But like it or not, Luthor was still a *part* of him. Kon didn't want to believe it, but it was true. He'd gotten the email from Robin only about a week after...after everything that happened, confirming what he'd already known.

What they'd all already known.

He'd thrown his computer against the wall. Tim had offered to fix it for him a few times since, but he'd refused. The only thing he used it for was staying in contact with the others, and they were better off without him.

Tim hated it when he said things like that. He'd made up charts and graphs and things to prove to Kon that he was wrong, that the Titans *needed* him.

He fingered the Titans communicator in his pocket. "You'll always be a Titan," Raven had said after her Magical Mystery Tour of Behind the Scenes in Kon-El's Brain. Surely it couldn't be that simple...could it? The TV blared with more stories of craziness around the world. Fires, earthquakes, tidal waves. But...people were handling it. Superman was handling it.

They didn't need him.

He hunched his hands in his pockets and walked to the door. He'd talk to Pa, then go out to where Tim was tinkering in the barn. He needed to get his head straightened out again. "Pa, I do want to help, I just-" He stopped short. Someone was floating just off the porch, dressed in a Superman costume. Ma and Pa were staring up at him, their eyes wide and their faces pale.

"Hello, _Superboy_ ," he said, his tone hostile.

"Who are you?"

"I'm your _replacement_ ," he said, and drove his fist into Kon's face.

It _hurt_. Kon could feel his shoulder dislocating as he hit the ground. Was this another of Raven's spiritual journeys? Another of Luthor's little tricks? The guy looked sort of like Kon, but not enough to be a clone. Not like Match.

"Uncle John...get Aunt...get Martha _out_ of here," he said, wiping the blood off his face. Nightmare or not, he had to protect them.

"Conner," Pa started, but Kon interrupted him.

"Please! Go!" he cried.

"I'm not going to hurt _them_ , Superboy. They're _good_ people. I would never hurt _good_ people."

"You just threw me into a tractor that was two feet away from them!"

"Yeah, but _you_ beat up your friends. I never did that. You have Lex Luthor inside your veins. You're a _monster_."

It hurt almost as bad as the punch had. All the things that he'd been telling himself for days, spewed aloud for everyone to hear. The only thing worse would be if - Kon's eyes darted to the barn and he felt his blood go cold. Tim was standing there, staring at the other Superboy with wide eyes, his face pale.

"You don't know what's good and bad!" his sort-of-doppleganger went on. "I'm everything you _should_ be, Conner. You're nothing!"

"Leave him _alone!_ "

"Tim," whispered Kon in horror. " _Don't_ -"

* * *

The fake Superboy started and looked around at him. "Oh, _you_ ," he said, and expression of disgust crossing his face. "I know who _you_ are." He floated slowly toward Tim. "You're part of what's messed everything up. It's all wrong! Superboy's not supposed to be...like that! He's supposed to fall in love with a Lana or a Lara or...he's not _supposed_ to like a - a _boy_!"

 _Welcome to the twenty-first century_ , thought Tim, but before he could speak, Pa's voice cut through the air, gentle and reasonable.

"Son," he said. "Stop this. Let's talk." Krypto was crouching defensively in front of the two of them, growling, his eyes glowing red.

"I don't want to talk anymore!" screamed the fake. Tim clapped his hands over his ears and Ma and Pa tumbled to the ground, knocked over by the force of his shriek. "I want my _life_ back!" he yelled, plowing into Conner. "I was the only one who could fly. Who could lift a car over his head. Who could do things nobody else could. I was earth's _only_ hero." He looked up for a moment, his gaze settling on Tim. "I'm gonna fix things!" he said, madness shining in his eyes. "Starting with *you*." Dropping Kon, he swooped across the farm. Tim braced himself to dodge.

"ROWRRRRF!" A white streak came at the fake sideways, knocking off his trajectory and sinking its teeth into his shoulder.

At the same moment, Conner shouted, "Tim!" and landed in front of him, his face dripping blood. "Are you all right?" he said.

"Augh! Let go!" bellowed the fake.

"I'm fine," said Tim, "Thanks to Krypto."

"Here." Conner pressed something into Tim's hand. "Call the Titans!" he said.

"You're not supposed to attack *me*!" said the fake, and Conner's lips curled into a smile. It disappeared as there was a *krak* and a yelp behind them. Conner spun around just as the fake said, "Bad dog!" and tossed Krypto to the ground, then looked up at them. "Oh no you don't," he said, and dove. Conner surged forward, but the fake had the advantage of momentum. He plowed Conner into the ground and smashed a fist into his jaw. Conner grabbed his arm, but the fake pulled away from him and came for Tim. With one hand he grabbed the communicator out of Tim's hand. With the other he gave Tim a terrific shove.

Fortunately, Tim had learned how to fall back when he'd trained in martial arts all those years ago before they'd left Gotham. In fact, it had been the *first* thing he learned. He let the momentum carry him down and rolled away, badly bruised and winded, but alive.

"TIM!" Conner had the fake in a headlock, pulling him away from Tim. "If you've hurt him-"

"I'm all right!" said Tim, getting to his knees. "I'm all right, Conner, but he took the communicator!"

The fake grinned and held up a fist. Opening it, he let the crushed remains of the communicator fall to the ground. "Now it's just you and me." He flipped Conner over his head and into the side of the barn, which exploded into splinters. "You're not so strong! You're just an imitation! Everyone *knows* that!" He started pummeling Conner, his fists coming away bloody. "I'm the *real* Superboy!"

Tim knew what he had to do. He got to his feet and dashed toward the farmhouse while the fake's back was turned. Slamming through the screen door, he yanked his laptop out of his backpack in the corner. Thirty seconds to boot up, another thirty to initiate a certain emergency protocol he'd pre-programmed; and thank goodness he'd arranged for the cable company to put in high-speed internet out here...

"Who is this?" came a scrambled voice through his laptop speakers. The image of a strange mask appeared on his screen.

"Oracle, there's no time. Get the Titans, Superman - anybody!"

"How did you-"

"Superboy's in trouble!" yelled Tim. He grabbed the laptop and spun it around, holding it up to the window so the built-in camera could see the fight. "Look! Get someone here *now*!"

There was a second or two of silence, during which Tim thought his heart would stop. Then, "Scrambling the Titans," the voice said coolly. "I'll be in touch with you...Tim Drake."

Tim had no doubt she would, but now wasn't the time to worry about it. He left the laptop on the kitchen table and ran back outside, across the yard, thinking only of getting back to Conner. Maybe he could distract that maniac until help could arrive.

"You fooled everyone into believing you were actually Superboy!" the fake said, and really, did he have any volume other than "loud"? "You don't even have a _cape_!"

His hand was around Conner's throat. But Conner grinned at him. "Thanks to my _boyfriend_ , the cavalry just arrived, you psycho!" he said. The fake looked around and gasped. Tim stumbled as people flooded past him, catching impressions of bright colors, masks, and capes. A glowing lasso descended from the sky and yanked Conner away from the fake. The fake shouted in fury, his eyes glowing, and turned to look right at Tim.

"I'll kill you!" he screamed. "Poisoning him, twisting him, making him all _wrong_! I'll kill you!"

Tim felt something slam him down as the ground erupted where he'd been a split second before, filling the air with dust. "Easy," said a voice that was somehow familiar. "Let's get you out of here." Tim couldn't speak, cough after cough welling up in his throat. He tried to wipe his watering eyes. All of a sudden something was held over his mouth - breathing a mask of some kind. He sucked in the clean air gratefully, still coughing. "C-Conner," he choked. "He's hurt - " he blinked again, his eyes clearing, and stared up into a dark blue mask. " _Dick_ ," he said. "I - I have to get to him, they don't know how badly he's hurt, he-"

Nightwing stilled at the sound of his name, frowning behind his mask. " _What_ the-" Some kind of explosion shook the ground next to them, and he gave his head a shake. "Later," he muttered. He pulled Tim against him and half carried, half dragged him away from the fray. The battle seemed to be moving away, toward the town.

Tim struggled against Nightwing as the man set him on his feet. Tearing off the breathing mask, he clutched at Nightwing's arm. "Conner," he said again. "Superboy. He- he needs help, he-"

"I know," said Nightwing gently. "Doc Midnight's got him," he said, pointing. "Look." Tim followed the direction of his finger, Wonder Girl and Robin and someone in black were bent over Conner - was he moving? Tim couldn't tell. Kid Flash blurred into existence next to them, then disappeared a few seconds later.

"Don'tworrywe'regonnatakecareofthatguy," Tim heard. He turned his head and caught a glimpse of Bart's amber eyes, his mouth set in an uncharacteristically serious expression. "I'mgladImetyou," he said, then flickered out in a flash of yellow before Tim could begin to form a reply.

Tim looked back to where the others were bending over Conner and started to run toward them, but before he was halfway there, Wonder Girl, Robin, the man in black and Conner had disappeared.

"Conner!" Tim cried, stumbling and falling to his knees. "Oh, god, Conner," he said, numb. "Conner." Someone touched his shoulder.

"Come on," said Ma. "Let's get you inside."

* * *

It was surreal to be sitting at the table as though nothing had happened, snapping beans as Ma made dinner. Ma had called Clark, and he'd promised her he'd let them know if he heard about any change in Conner's condition...

Tim's hands shook, and he focused on steadying them before snapping another bean. Conner was alive. He had to concentrate on that fact. Conner was still alive.

There was a tap at the screen door. Tim looked up as Krypto barked. Someone was silhouetted against the sunset. Ma, who was closer, crossed the kitchen and pushed open the screen. "Dick!" she said. "Come in, come in. How are you?"

"I'm all right, Mrs. Kent," he said. Bending down, he scratched Krypto behind the ears. "Hey, Krypto. How you doing, boy?" Krypto barked and licked his hand, making him laugh.

When he straightened again, Ma was standing with her hands on her hips. "Mrs. Kent was my mother-in-law," she said with a mock-frown.

Dick ducked his head and grinned. "I wasn't sure if I should still call you Martha," he said, giving her a hug. "I know you told me to, but that was a long time ago."

"It _has_ been a long time," she said chidingly, looking up at him. "When was the last time you visited us?"

"Oh, it's been a couple of years," he admitted. "Clark invited me to dinner after..." he trailed off.

"I remember," she said.

"Am I still welcome?" he asked with a charming smile.

"Always," she said, giving him a squeeze and half-releasing him. Turning, she said, "Let me introduce you to- dear, what's the matter?"

Tim managed to close his mouth and blinked several times. Dick was still there, one arm still around Ma, Krypto nipping at the fingers of the other. He was dressed in a t-shirt and jeans. He was...

"Ma, you _know_ him?" blurted Tim last. He could feel the heat in his face, and knew he was blushing harder than he ever had.

Glancing up at Dick, she said, "Of course I know him. Why shouldn't I?"

"But. But he's _Dick Grayson!_ "

Dick's grin didn't falter. "And you _still_ have the advantage of me."

"This is Tim Drake," said Ma, giving Dick a little shake. "He lives down the road, and he's a very nice young man, so don't tease him, Dick. He's Conner's boyfriend."

Tim nearly knocked the bowl of beans off the table. "Ma!" he said in an agony of embarrassment.

Dick was looking at him thoughtfully. "Is *that* how you knew...?"

"No! I mean, I-" Tim squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head hard for a moment. "Conner didn't tell me. I don't even know if he knows...I mean. It was because of something he said, but. I figured it out. I-" He stopped. His face felt like it was on _fire_.

Casually, Dick took a few strides forward and, pulling out a chair, he sat down at the table. He picked up a bean and snapped it. "Tell me about it?" he said.

Tim picked up a bean with shaking hands and focused on snapping it. He did three more while silence reigned in the kitchen. The kettle on the stove hissed as the water heated and the cuckoo clock on the wall ticked away as the pendulum swung back and forth.

"Conner told me... _Superboy_ told me that Robin's mom had been killed," he said quietly. "We were just talking, and he was telling me about it because. Because he was worried about her. He said her dad was in jail and that she was going to be staying with _Batman_..." He swallowed and snapped another bean. "I had been reading about Gotham and I knew Stephanie Brown's story. There were too many things that matched up for it to be a coincidence, and once I started thinking about it, I realized it made perfect sense. I did some research, and..." he shrugged and flicked his eyes to Dick's face, then away again.

Dick was watching him intently. "That's all?" he said. "It seems like there should be more to it than that-"

Before Tim could try to answer, a voice came from his laptop where he'd left it, still open, on the end of the table. "There is," said the voice, strange and distorted.

Everyone in the kitchen blinked at the laptop for a moment, then Dick pushed back his chair reached across the table to pick up the computer. Turning it around so the screen faced the table, he said, "Oracle?"

The mask floated in the center of the screen. "His encryption is amazing. Of course, I broke it, but not too many people could have. Dick, he's the one who's been hacking into the Tower's camera feeds and spying on the Titans."

"It wasn't _spying!_ " objected Tim. "I was just. Conner was _Superboy_ and I wanted. I-" He closed his eyes, wishing he could sink through the floor.

There was a soft touch on his shoulder. "Tim, would you mind going up to the attic for me, dear?" said Ma. "I want to put out the autumn things." She handed him a pile of kitchen towels and potholders decorated with sunflowers.

Autumn wouldn't start for another few days, but Tim took the pile from her and pushed through the swinging door, thankful. As he started up the stairs, he heard Ma say Dick's name in a scolding tone, but the rest was lost as he hurried up the stairs.

The attic was up a ladder and through a trap door. Tim clambered up and pulled the string for the single bulb that lit the place. The fall towels were in a chest of drawers made of cedar. He tucked the clean sunflower towels and potholders into their place and pulled out the ones decorated with colorful leaves and cornucopias.

When he got to the bottom of the ladder, he set down the towels, went into the second-floor bathroom, and threw up.

Dick was going to hate him, or at the very least be disgusted by him, when he saw what was on Tim's computer. Maybe Conner would, too. Conner hadn't minded the telescope, but that was different than listening in on someone's private conversations...

If Conner was even _alive_.

Tim washed his face and brushed his teeth to get the taste out of his mouth. Even if Dick hated him, even if _Conner_ hated him, it wouldn't matter, as long as Conner was alive.

Picking up the stack of towels and potholders, Tim made his way down the stairs and back to the kitchen. Ma was busy at the counter. Dick was snapping the last of the beans, his cheeks faintly flushed. The floating mask on Tim's laptop was gone.

Tim handed the stack to Ma, who said, "Thank you, Tim." Dick looked up at him and smiled a little.

"I'm sorry," he said. "It's not really fair to give you the third degree when your boyfriend is hurt, is it?"

"It's okay," said Tim quickly. "I understand. I knew The Secret, and you had to find out _how_ I knew, and - and-"

"And now I know," said Dick. He stood up. "He's at the Tower, and I need to go there anyway," he said. "Need a lift?"

For a long, strange moment, Tim couldn't process the words. "With- with you? To the Tower? _Titans'_ Tower?"

"Yeah," said Dick, shoving his hands in his pockets. "I bet he'll be glad to see you."

"But, the things I did..." Tim started.

"You haven't hurt anyone, right? Or given away anyone's secret identity? Actually, Oracle said that you probably saved Superboy's life by contacting her when you did." A slow, sly smile crept across his face. "It's not anyone that could break through her firewall to contact *her* - usually she's the one sending the messages. Once she gets over being shocked, I'm pretty sure she's going to be impressed."

It was all too much. Tim wanted to put his head in his hands and scream, or cry, or laugh.

"Tim," said Ma, "Do you have everything you need?"

Backpack. He had his backpack with a toothbrush and a change of clothes - he always brought one with him, in case he ended up spending the night at the farm, sleeping on the couch or out in Conner's loft. Moving mechanically, he shut down his laptop and slipped it into its pocket in the backpack. Ma handed Dick a covered basket. "There are a few things in there for you boys to eat on the way," she said. "Keep your strength up."

Dick's face lit up. "Thanks, Ma!" he said. Tim's stomach turned over again at the thought of food, though, and he swallowed hard.

"What about the beans?" he asked. Between them, he and Dick had snapped enough to feed four or five people.

"Don't worry about them," said Ma. "Just let us know how Conner is doing, all right?"

"Yes, Ma," said Tim. She hugged him, surprising him, and he wrapped his arms around her for a long moment and hugged back.

"Ready to go?" said Dick as Tim pulled away.

"I...I guess so," said Tim, slinging his backpack over his shoulder.

* * *

The ride to the Tower was quiet and uneventful, and seemed to take forever, though Tim knew intellectually that the Batwing flew far faster than a conventional aircraft. Dick kept trying to make small talk - he unfastened his seatbelt at the first opportunity, blithely explaining that the Batwing's auto-pilot was 'excellent' before flipping up into a handstand on his chair.

Tim had just nodded as Dick fidgeted around in the small space, and answered Dick's questions in monosyllables until Dick gave up. Tim knew he should be thrilled at the opportunity to ride in the Batwing, with _Dick Grayson_ , but all he could think about was Conner. He'd been covered in blood...the Teen Titans would call Dick if Conner had died, right? He would know, wouldn't he? Tim was too afraid of the answer to ask.

After what seemed an eternity, they arrived. Dick led the way through a couple of security measures after calling Cyborg and explaining that he was bringing a guest with him.

"Here we are," said Dick with a flourish. He waved Tim into a room that looked like the common area for a college dorm, complete with a TV, several game systems, and a kitchen area. As he stepped into the room, several other people came through a side door, arguing.

"How do you know?" Beast Boy was asking, and Tim's first thought was that he was even greener close up.

"Trust me," said Robin. She stopped short and focused on Tim. "We have guests, guys."

Wonder Girl and Speedy were right behind her. "Who-?" said Wonder Girl.

"Hey kids," said Nightwing. He put a hand on Tim's shoulder. "This is Tim. He's a good friend of Superboy's, so I brought him here to see how he's doing."

There was silence for several seconds as the various members stared at him in disbelief. Then, "Are you _crazy?_ " Wonder Girl burst out.

"Nightwing, what are you-" started Robin at the same time.

Dick held up his hands. "Whoa, all will be explained," he said. "But first, why don't you let Tim here in to see his boyfriend? He's had a stressful-"

" _Boyfriend_?" Wonder Girl's eyes went wide and she looked hard at Tim. Tim tightened his grip on the strap of his backpack where it cut into his shoulder and swallowed. He couldn't do much about the fact that he was blushing.

Robin stepped forward, drawing his gaze. She held out her hand. "Nice to meet you," she said. "I'm Robin."

"Nice to meet you," said Tim. Her gloves were rough and textured against his hand, her grip strong and sure. "Tim Drake," he said as firmly as he could manage.

"These are Wonder Girl, Speedy and Beast Boy," she said, releasing his hand and gesturing to each of them in turn. Beast Boy was smirking at him, while Wonder Girl was looking at him appraisingly. Speedy gave him a shy smile. The skin of Beast Boy's hand was unexpectedly and surprisingly human. Wonder Girl's grip was challenging, but not crushing. Speedy's gloves were smoother than Robin's.

"Superboy's in here," said Robin, steering Tim toward the room they'd just stepped out of. She paused in front of the door. "He...doesn't look too good," she said. "Brace yourself."

Tim nodded and took a breath. Robin pushed open the door and Tim followed her in.

Conner was laying in the bed, his face covered with an oxygen mask and his body a mass of open sores. He looked...withered. "Oh, god," whispered Tim.

There was a stirring in the darkness on the other side of the bed, and Tim looked up, blinking, to see another person standing behind Conner. He recognized her. "Raven," croaked Tim.

Her eyes were filled with pain. "Hello, Tim," she said. She reached out to him, then drew her hand back without touching him, pulling her robe more tightly around her.

He looked at her for a moment, slightly freaked out, but he forgot it a moment later as his gaze was drawn irresistibly back to Conner's body. As he watched, Conner's eyes fluttered open. " _Tim_?" Conner's voice was thin and muffled by the oxygen mask, but understandable. "What are you...doing here?" he gasped out.

"Don't try to talk," said Tim quickly. He looked at Raven. "Can I touch him?" She met his eyes with her steady, disconcerting gaze and nodded. Carefully, Tim took his hand, avoiding the sores. "Nightwing brought me," he said.

"Cool," said Conner. He started to cough, his body wracked with them, his face contorted with pain. "It looks worse than it is," he managed to choke out after a minute.

Tim squeezed his hand. "Try to get some rest," he said.

"Come back?" said Conner.

"Yes," said Tim. "I'll be right back. I won't leave you, Conner."

"I know," said Conner.

Tim turned and left the room, closing the door softly behind him and leaning back against it. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't-"

Robin was standing in front of him. "-you okay?"

"Yea-...No," he said. "I don't understand. He was- That fake Superboy hurt him, but he wasn't like _this_. What *happened* to him?"

"It's something to do with his cellular structure," said Robin. "He draws energy and strength from the sun, but he sustained too much damage in his fight. His body is literally breaking itself down as it tries to heal itself. It's a conflict between his Kryptonian and human DNA."

"God." Tim wanted to be sick again. The very thing that gave Conner his strength and invulnerability was killing him.

"I have reason to believe that there is a cure for his condition," Robin went on. "We're going to see if we can obtain it." Her eyes searched his face.

Tim stared at her, painful hope flaring in his chest. "Please," he said. "Please, _hurry_."

Robin nodded. Tim looked up at the others gathered in the room. Nightwing had a phone to his ear, his face pale and stricken. "Why Bludhaven? They- is there...is there anything left _to_ save?"

"We'll do everything we can," said Robin, drawing Tim's attention again. "You have to convince him to hang on until we get back."

Tim swallowed. "I'll try," he whispered.

Dick snapped his phone shut. "I'm sorry, I have to go," he said.

"I know," said Robin. "We understand. You get back to your city; we got this." Tim watched as Nightwing grabbed her and hugged her hard, like a drowning man clinging to a lifeline. Robin hugged him back. "You do what you need to do."

"Thanks, little sister," said Nightwing as they broke apart. Robin gave him a wry look and punched him in the arm.

"How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that?"

He gave her a small smile. "But now it's true, right?"

"Just _go_ ," she said, rolling her eyes and shooing him with one hand.

Tim blinked as Nightwing turned to him. "Hang in there, kid," he said, and before Tim knew what was happening, Nightwing was hugging *him*.

"Uh-" he said, and then Nightwing let go and smiled at him.

"See you later." And then he was gone, out the door.

"G-good luck," Tim called after him. Robin gave his shoulder a squeeze. "We'll be back as soon as we can," she said.

"Thank you," said Tim.

* * *

Time seemed frozen. Tim wondered if this was what people like Kid Flash felt like as he clung to Conner's hand through another series of coughs. Raven was sitting on the opposite side of the bed, perched on the edge of her chair and watching both of them with her unnerving gaze.

"Can't you do anything for him?" asked Tim as the spasm wracked Conner's body, but Raven shook her head.

"My abilities are behaving strangely."

Tim closed his eyes and turned his head away. "Please," he said. "Please try."

Raven frowned and laid one hand on the sheet above Conner's chest. With a look of concentration, she began to chant. Tim focused on her pale hand, _hoping_ -

Smoke began to curl around her hand. "Raven, stop!" cried Tim, and she blinked and pulled her hand back, leaving a blackened handprint on the sheet.

"I'm sorry," she gasped, panting. "There was I time that I could have helped him, but now I can't even help _you_. I can't even ease your grief or your fear. I'm sorry."

Tim shook his head. "It's not your fault. Th-thank you for trying," he said.

Raven inclined her head gracefully. Conner opened his eyes. "Wha- Whas goin' on?" he slurred.

"Nothing," said Tim quickly. "Robin will be back soon," he said, praying it was true. "Just hang on, Conner."

"Tryin'," gasped Conner, shivering hard. It was bizarre to see him like this, so _helpless_. His hand was weak in Tim's. "Dunno 'f I c'n do it, Tim," he said.

"You _can_ , Conner. "Just a little more. For _me_ ," said Tim.

He felt a faint pressure as Conner squeezed his fingers. "Tryin'," whispered Conner.

"You can rest for awhile," said Tim. "Conserve your strength." He lay his head on the bed next to their hands. "Rest," he said.

* * *

A light touch on his shoulder brought him awake. "Tim," said Raven softly.

"Wha- Are they back?"

"No," said Raven. "We need to move him. He's slipped into a coma."

Tim swallowed down the despair rising in his throat. Raven watched impassively as he struggled to control himself. "Where?" he said.

"In here," she said, gesturing him to follow.

It didn't take them long to wheel Conner's gurney into the other room and carefully maneuver him into the glass tank that Cyborg had set up for him in case of an emergency. Tim was almost glad of the distraction as he stood on the step ladder and figured out how to connect the oxygen mask and Raven started the flow of the nutrient solution. It was an uncomfortable shade of green, too close to the images of kryptonite that Tim had seen online. Conner's skin seemed to take on the sickly hue as he floated in the liquid. Tim sank down with his back resting against the tank and put his head on his arms.

"I'm going to go meditate," came Raven's soft voice. "See if I can regain some control over my abilities. If you need me, I'll be in the next room over." Tim nodded without looking up.

He couldn't have said how much time passed before he heard the sound of voices. His head came up and he glanced at the screen with the readout of Conner's lifesigns. They were weak, too weak. Wonder Girl and Speedy pushed through the door, Raven following behind them.

"We got it," said Wonder Girl. "Thanks to Speedy!" Tim watched numbly as they poured in the liquid and listened as she read off the directions for administering it. "Now we wait," she finished. Tim felt a hand on his arm.

"You okay?" said Speedy, bending over him. "You need anything?"

When he'd managed to process the words through his sluggish brain, he shook his head. "I - I'm okay. Thank you," he said, and pressed his hand to hers. " _Thank you_."

She smiled at him. "Of course," she said easily. "He'd do the same for me. Or...or any of us."

And then she was gone, they were all gone, and Tim was alone again. He turned and stared into the tube. Was it his imagination, or were the sores closing? He peered closer. It wasn't all in his head; Conner's skin was knitting as he watched.

Something rose in chest, swelling and building until he felt as though he was going to burst. "Conner," he whispered. He sank down again, his forehead against the tube. Conner's feet were healing, too. His whole body was healing.

Tim couldn't watch anymore. He curled in on himself, half-hiding behind the tube, his knees drawn up to his chest as he took deep breaths and leaned the side of his head against the warm glass. "Conner," he whispered. "Conner."

He must have drifted off again, he realized later. A masculine voice came from the other side of the tube, startling him awake. "Hn," it said. "You should have been _stronger_." Tim blinked and turned his head. "You were _made_ to be stronger than this." Peering groggily through the glass, Tim could make out a figure in purple and green, wavy and distorted.

"That's what my father used to say to me," the man went on. He didn't seem to notice Tim on the opposite side of the tube, huddled on the floor by its base. His eyes were turned upward, locked on the figure floating there. "Stand up. Face your obstacles. Don't run away from anything. But you did." He turned aside, his hand curling into a fist. "You ran away from me. From yourself..." Glancing up again, he laid a hand against the glass. Tim opened his mouth to yell, but he couldn't seem to make a sound. _How did he get past security?_ "Look at what that doppleganger did to you. And _mine_." It took Tim a moment to realize he was speaking of his own doppleganger. "He thinks he's _smarter_ than I am." He scowled. "They always do."

He stood there for several seconds, not speaking. Slowly his expression changed from anger to to something strange, something almost tender. "For all my trouble up north," he said at last, holding up something, "I got a look at their technology. So should _you_ ," he put down the object on the console next too the tube, "my son."

Tim was about to shout in outrage, but Wonder Girl beat him to it, her voice echoing through the room as she burst through the door. "He's not your _son_ , Luthor! If you hurt him-"

" _Hurt_ him?" Luthor actually sounded offended. "I'm here to _help_. When he needed someone to protect him the most-" he sneered, "- _he_ wasn't there. Where was he?"

"Where was _who_?" said Wonder Girl.

"Where was _Superman_?" roared Luthor. Tim frowned. He didn't want Luthor to be right, but if only Superman had been there...

"Don't _pretend_ you care about him, Luthor!" With the sound of thunder, Wonder Girl's golden lasso flashed through the air. _Watch out for the tube!_ thought Tim.

There was a 'click' and Luthor's form flickered.

"Don't bother," he said. "When you have an evil doppleganger trying to tear you out of history-" The lasso fell uselessly to the ground as Luthor disappeared and reappeared across the room. "-you learn not to stay in one place too long." _That explains how he got past security, anyway._

Wonder Girl growled. "I'm putting Titans Tower under _lockdown_ -"

"Wonder Girl, wait," said another voice. Robin stepped forward and placed a restraining hand on her arm. "He's not here to harm Superboy."

"How can you be sure?" said Wonder Girl though clenched teeth.

" _He's_ the one who told me about the cure," said Robin. Tim started. That _couldn't_ be true.

"She's right," said Luthor calmly, one hand on the glass of the tube again. "If I wanted to hurt Superboy, he'd be _dead_ by now."

 _But you *did* hurt him,_ thought Tim, his mind flashing to the memory of Conner curled up in his bed, sobbing. But if what Robin was saying was true, Luthor had just saved Conner's life.

"I'm not going to let him walk out of here!" Wonder Girl's voice echoed through the room.

" _Children_ ," said Luthor scornfully. "I'll do whatever I please. And right now, believe it or not, I'm on _your_ side."

"Robin!" Beast Boy and Speedy burst through the door. "We heard you arguing. Is everything all- _Luthor?_ "

"Like you always say, Titans...we're in this _together_."

"He's just _leaving_ ," said Robin. "Back off, Gar." Luthor smirked at them and flickered, disappearing again. This time he didn't reappear.

"Back _off_?" Gar said in outrage. "What the hell was Luthor doing here? Dropping off a _get-well_ card?"

"It doesn't matter," said Robin.

"Like hell!" said Wonder Girl. "We shouldn't have let him go-"

Robin whirled around to face her. "They dropped the equivalent of an _atom bomb_ on Bludhaven! Nightwing is there right now, trying to help! We have more important things to worry about than Lex Luthor!"

 _They what? They *did*? Who did?_ Tim pushed himself up, grimacing as blood flowed back into legs and feet that had gone to sleep. Catching the movement, Robin turned to him and gave him a short nod of acknowledgment. Speedy spoke up, saying something about rescue operations. Tim reached down and rubbed his calves, trying to get the circulation back. When he looked up, Beast Boy and Speedy had left the room.

"You go ahead," said Wonder Girl. "My powers are so unreliable right now that I'd probably fall and die on the way there."

Robin frowned. "You don't need powers to make a difference, Wonder Girl."

"I don't have your training, Steph." Robin stiffened a little at the use of her name and shot a sideways glance at Tim. "And I can't help trying to use my powers. If I go, someone will get hurt or killed because of me. I'll stay and look after Kon - " she turned toward the tube and caught sight of Tim, "- and...and Kon's friend," she said.

Robin was silent. Finally she said, "All right. It's probably good to have someone here at the Tower anyway, just in case." She squeezed Wonder Girl's arm. "I don't know if the communicators will work, but call anyway if you need anything."

"I will," said Wonder Girl and hugged her. "Thanks."

Robin flashed her a grin as they broke apart. "Too bad you're not coming. I want to introduce you to my new boyfriend."

_Boyfriend?_

Wonder Girl's eyebrows went up. "Boyfriend? Who is it?"

Robin's grin widened mischievously. "Red Hood."

"What? Steph, isn't he that terrorist that's been killing people all over Gotham City?"

Robin flushed. "It's a long story," she said. "I'll tell you about it after this is over."

"You'd better!" Wonder Girl looked scandalized.

Beast Boy poked his head into the room. "You girls coming?"

"Yeah," said Robin. "See you later," she said, hurrying to the door. "Take care of Superboy."

And then she was gone.

Wonder Girl turned to Tim, looking at him measuringly. "Want some coffee?" she said at last.

Suddenly Tim realized that he was ravenous. "Yes, please," he said faintly.

"Wait here," she said. "I'll be right back."

Tim leaned against the tube, feeling drained. Conner's skin was healed and his pulse was strong and steady again. According to the monitors, he was in a deep sleep.

Wonder Girl came back in a few minutes later. She shoved a mug into Tim's hand and set a plate with a sandwich on it down on the console next to the thing Luthor had left there. "You should eat something," she said. "He won't be awake for awhile yet, probably." Tim nodded and picked up the sandwich gratefully. "I'm...I'm going for a walk," she said. "I'll be back in a few minutes." Tim glanced at the window, which was being lashed violently by the rain. He didn't say anything, just nodded again.

"Don't say much, do you?" Wonder Girl cocked her head curiously at him. "Must be why Kon likes you so much," her voice dry. "Plenty of room to hear himself talk."

Tim opened his mouth, but she just gave him a half smile and swept out of the room. Tim closed his mouth and sat down to finish his sandwich.

* * *

He'd slipped into a light doze again when a sharp *crack* woke him. Opening his eyes, he saw the tube was breaking. For a moment his heart froze; then he saw that Conner was awake, and pushing a hand against the side. Green liquid poured out onto the floor as the glass shattered.

"Conner!" gasped Tim. He was across the room before he knew it, his arms wrapped around Conner. "Are you all right?"

"Mmph," said Conner, then pulled off the breathing mask. "Never better. 'cept I hate that stuff. Like taking a bath in Nyquil."

Tim couldn't help it, he laughed. "I could have just opened the top, you know."

Conner glanced over his shoulder at the mess and shrugged sheepishly. "Oh. It's kind of force of habit, I guess - I wake up suspended in liquid in a glass tube; I punch my way out."

"It doesn't matter," said Tim quickly. "You're all right, that's all that matters." He wrapped his arms around Conner's torso as the other boy leaned on him heavily.

"What happened, anyway?" said Conner after a moment.

"That false Superboy...he hurt you. A _lot_ ," said Tim, shuddering at the memory. "Something went wrong and your body was eating itself from within. There was a cure..." he stopped, frowning. Now wasn't the time to tell Conner about Luthor. Tim would wait until he was feeling stronger. "Anyway, you just need to recharge."

"I need some _food_ , is what I need," said Conner. "I'm starving!" Tim kept an arm around his waist as they started for the kitchen.

The kitchen was warm and bright. Wonder Girl was standing there, talking to someone on a communicator. Water dripped from her hair and outfit, but she was smiling, practically crackling with electricity.

"I'll explain later," she was saying. "The important thing is, I can help now. Yeah. Right. I'll see you soon, Kara." She pushed the button and looked up at them. "Hey!" Surging forward, she wrapped Conner in a hug. He looked startled, but hugged her back. "Thank goodness, Conner. I'm so glad. I'm so glad."

"Uh, thanks," said Conner. She let him go and steadied him as he swayed a little.

"You're gonna be fine," she said. "All you need is some sun." He nodded. "Listen, I gotta go. Will you guys be okay?"

Tim nodded and Conner said, "Go ahead, we'll be all right. We're headed out ourselves, just as soon as I can get a shower and a change of clothes and some food. And not in that order!"

Cassie threw back her head and laughed. "Okay then. Be good, kids." She winked at them and lifted off the ground, flying up the stairwell toward the roof.

Looking up at Conner, Tim asked, worried, "Where are we going?"

Conner smiled down at him. "Home," he said.

 

~End of Year Two: Summer~


	9. Year Two: "In Bloom", Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When he was nine years old, young Timothy Drake's family decided to move to a small town in Kansas...
> 
>  
> 
> _"Heroes have always saved the day before. They probably will again, right?"_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 6566 words this chapter  
> Rating: NC-17 this chapter  
> Warnings: Canon character death. (Highlight to read the spoiler text.)  
> Thank you to everyone who's read this far, and especially people who comment.

The sky was filled with strange colors. Every so often the image of another earth would flicker over them, then disappear again. Below them, dark clouds covered everything, especially major cities.

"What is it?" said Kon after awhile, shifting his grip slightly on Tim.

Tim wrapped his arms a little tighter around Kon and said, "The end of the world."

"Really?" Kon stroked one hand over Tim's hair, brushing it out of his face. "Is this really it?"

"I don't know," said Tim. He was staring at the sky. "Heroes have always saved the day before. They probably will again, right?"

Kon didn't answer. It had taken them a long time to get to Kansas since he'd been flying at less than full speed to conserve his strength. "I should be out there helping," he said.

"Not tonight," said Tim firmly. "You're still recovering your strength." They descended into the farmyard. The sky was black as pitch. The porch light was on, but the rest of the house was dark.

"What time is it?" asked Kon as he put Tim down.

Tim peered at his watch. "10pm," he said. "They're probably asleep."

"Let's go up to the loft," said Kon. Tim nodded and hitched his backpack higher before following him into the barn. Kon flew up and turned on the light so Tim could come up the steps. When he reached the top, he joined Kon in peering out the window. As they watched, a strong wind pushed the clouds out of the way, revealing a bright, full moon and a sky full of stars.

Tim reached over and turned off the lamp. "It's beautiful," he said.

"Yeah," said Kon. He turned and looked down at Tim's face, bathed in the pale light. Tim blinked, a quick sweep of dark lashes against moon-whitened skin, and looked up at him.

"I love you," he said.

"I know," said Kon. "I love you, too." He pulled Tim into a kiss and felt Tim's body shivering against his. "Are you cold?" he whispered.

"No," said Tim. He pressed his forehead against Kon's shoulder. "You almost died," he said.

"But I didn't," said Kon.

"Robin told me...your body was eating itself for energy. You couldn't soak up the sunlight fast enough, since you're only half-Kryptonian, so-"

"Tim. I'm all right, now." Kon tried to project reassurance as he held his boyfriend close.

Tim shuddered against him. "There's something I want. I..." He trailed off.

"What is it?"

"I..." Tim swallowed and Kon felt him tense, felt him squeezing his eyes shut as he pressed his head harder into Kon's shoulder. "I want to have...I want you to...I want you in-inside me," he said.

Kon pulled back a little in surprise. "You mean," he slid one hand down and squeezed Tim's ass. "You want to do _that_?"

Tim was looking at the floor. Kon could tell his ears were flushed even in the dim moonlight. "Yes," he said, not looking at Kon.

"But isn't it...it's not...isn't it _gross_?"

Tim bit his lip. "I showered before we left. You can wear a condom, and..." his eyes flicked up to meet Kon's before darting down again, "It feels...really good."

Kon blinked. "How do you know?"

Tim let go of him and turned around, his back tense and embarrassed. "After we. After the first time, I did some research. I decided...I tried it."

"Oh." Kon shook his head a little. He couldn't quite seem to wrap his head around it. "You...I...show me?"

Tim just nodded and picked up his backpack where he'd tossed it in the corner. He opened it up and Kon realized there was an inside pocket with a miniature padlock on it. Tim turned the dial with the ease of long practice, then pulled off the lock and unzipped the pocket. The lock wouldn't stop anyone that really wanted to see what was inside, but, Kon realized, but it would keep out nosy servants or Ma and Pa, should they happen across it for one reason or another.

Tim removed several items from the compartment; a box of condoms, a tube of something, and an oblong case. Then he quickly stripped out of his clothes, tucking them into his backpack as he went.

Kon touched the couch and unfolded it with a thought as Tim watched. Tim smiled at him a little and climbed up. His hands were shaking, Kon realized.

"Are you warm enough?"

Tim gave a half-shrug. "It is a little cold in here," he admitted.

Kon stripped off his shirt. "Here," he said. Tim's mouth fell open a little, his eyes wide with delight like a child's for a moment. He took the shirt with a quiet reverence and slipped it over his head. He closed his eyes and breathed in and out once before climbing onto the bed.

Lying back, he seemed to relax a little. He opened the case and took out an oddly-shaped item - not like any typical dildo Kon had seen pictures of. It was very narrow at the tip and gradually widened until it flared at the base. Kon squinted in the pale moonlight. It was a mix of two colors swirled together, but they looked like shades of gray.

"What colors is it?"

Tim cleared his throat. "Red and black," he admitted. "And the base is blue. It was...customizable."

"My colors, huh?"

Tim nodded, still not meeting his eyes. Kon could tell how darkly flushed he was, even with nothing more than the moon's dim radiance. "Your colors. I told you, I bought it after we..." He didn't finish the sentence, but picked up the toy. He closed his eyes, his breathing deep and even. Kon's own breathing quickened a trifle when he saw that Tim was starting to get hard, the beginning of an erection peeking out from the hem of Kon's shirt.

Working mostly by touch, Tim unwrapped a condom and carefully rolled it over the toy. It was loose at the tip, but stretched well enough around the wide base. Then he flipped open the cap on the tube and squeezed some of the substance into his hand.

"That's, uh-"

"Lubricant? Yes," said Tim. His breathing was getting a little quicker now, his cock hardening. Kon licked his lips as he saw a drop of precome at the tip, shining a little in the moonlight. Kon would never have believed it, but Tim was not only okay with this, he was _anticipating_ it.

It wasn't that Kon was exceptionally freaked out by the idea. It was just that, well...most people seemed to think it was pretty weird. He'd kind of figured that Tim would be the type to, at best, wrinkle his nose and say something about it being 'unsanitary'.

He'd never _dreamed_ he'd see Tim like this, slowly rubbing the slick over and over the toy until he seemed satisfied with it. Leaning back against the couch cushions, he took a deep breath and spread his legs, bending his knees and planting his feet on the mattress. With one hand he gave his erection a quick squeeze - Kon caught his breath as the precome dripped over the tip. With the other he took the toy and began to...tease himself with it.

There was no other word for it. He circled around his entrance, touched it lightly, prodded at it, drew away again, rubbed it, pressed against it, and finally pushed inside, just a little. He stopped, breathing deeply again, before nudging it a little further in. Occasionally he'd give his cock a squeeze with his other hand, or stroke fingertips lightly over his balls. His eyes were tightly closed and his lower lip caught between his teeth.

Kon shivered. They'd touched each other and even touched themselves at the same time before, but he'd never really just _watched_ Tim. Not like this.

It was _incredibly_ intimate.

Never taking his eyes off Tim, Kon peeled off his own jeans, freeing his erection.

Tim gradually worked himself open, pushing the toy in deeper and deeper. Kon _wanted_ that, he realized. He wanted to be the one making Tim sweat and shiver and pant. He reached out.

"Can I?" he said. Tim's eyes blinked open.

"C-Conner?"

"Can I do it?"

"Y-yeah." He let go of the toy and Kon took hold of the base, twisting it slightly and pushing just a little. A moan escaped Tim's lips. "Conner. _Conner_."

"Yeah," said Kon, twisting his wrist and sending a small ripple of vibrations through his fingertips. Tim gasped and arched.

"Oh god, I'll come if you do that," he said.

A wave of lust swamped Kon's senses. "Yeah?" he breathed, and did it again. Tim's head snapped back and he _whined_. "C-Conner!" His cock was hard and dark and he hadn't touched it _once_ since Kon had taken over the toy.

"Mmm," said Kon. He pushed the toy a little deeper, tugged it out a bit, pushed it in. Tim was panting, tremors wracking his body. His cock jumped each time Kon nudged the toy. Kon's own cock was just as hard, but he ignored it as he played with Tim.

Carefully, he nudged the toy again. It was in almost to the base, now, stretching Tim out, and suddenly Kon imagined what it would feel like to have that around _him_ , to *feel* Tim's body against him as he pushed in and out and Tim shuddered beneath him...

Hardly meaning to do it, he sent a hard wave of vibration through his hand. Tim *shouted* and came, his cock splattering against his chest in a wave before collapsing back against the couch.

" _Fuck_ ," said Kon.

"That is...the general idea," said Tim. He opened his eyes. He was still flushed, but all the tension and embarrassment seemed to have flowed away with his orgasm. "Do you want to?"

"Yes." Kon stared at him, feeling the word was inadequate. " _God_ , yes."

Tim smiled, wide and easy, his eyes glittering. "Good." He closed his eyes and breathed, sliding the toy out, carefully removing the condom and dropping it in the trash, and producing some sort of wipe as Kon watched, interested and also a little desperate.

"Tim," he said. "Come _on._ "

"Give me a moment, Conner," said Tim firmly, and Kon shut up. Tim cleaned off the toy and tucked it back in its case, discarding the wipe when he was finished. Unwrapping another wipe, he fastidiously cleaned the come off his chest.

" _Tim._ "

Tim looked at Kon from under his lashes. "Yes, Conner?" he asked innocently.

"I am gonna..."

"Come here," Tim ordered, and Kon found himself obeying before he'd even fully processed the words. Tim was unwrapping another condom. As Kon watched, Tim carefully unrolled it onto Kon's leaking cock. Kon shuddered at the touch. Tim's hands were trembling again, he realized as Tim poured more slick over the condom and began to coat it with the stuff.

"Tim." The name came out as a groan.

When he'd finished, Tim leaned back and planted his feet on the mattress as he had before. "Try not to go too fast, okay?" he said. "I'm looser, now, but you're _big_."

Kon nodded and pressed forward. Tim lifted his knees, pulling them back to his chest as Kon positioned himself.

"Ow," said Tim, and Kon froze, confused. He hadn't even- "My legs are cramping up," Tim admitted with a little laugh. "I don't bend that way. My sensei always told me I needed to work on my flexibility more. I wish I had!" Kon wanted to cry. He wanted...he _needed..._

"Hang on," said Tim. "Position change." Kon sat back and watched as Tim rolled over and got up on his hands and knees. "This is better anyway," he said.

"Why?" asked Kon as he positioned himself behind Tim.

"My penis won't be trapped between us. If you touch it too much while you're," there was the slightest hesitation before the word, "f-fucking me, I'll come really fast."

Kon leaned forward, pressing his front to Tim's back. "I'll keep that in mind," he said in Tim's ear, and grinned as he watched the goosebumps appear on Tim's arms.

Moving slowly, Kon nudged at Tim's hole, trying to tease it the way Tim had - except now he was teasing _himself_ , too. Every touch sent ripples of sensation through him, making him quiver. He didn't think he'd ever been so hard in his _life_ , even when he'd first 'hatched' and it seemed like he was high on hormones _all the time_. Even that time when his super-hearing had kicked in unexpectedly and he'd gotten to listen to Steph as she panted and whimpered in her bed at Titan's Tower. Even that time he'd broken his own bed while thinking about Tim.

The memories washed over him for a moment, swamping his senses and doubling the sensations. "F-fuck," he said, the word thick in his mouth. "Fuck, _Tim_ , fuck..."

"Yeah," said Tim. "Fuck me, Conner. Kon- _El_. _Fuck_ me, _do_ it-" Kon groaned, the sound throbbing through both of them. Tim pushed _back_ , pressing himself onto Kon. _Impaling_ himself.

"Oh god," said Kon. Tim was tight. Tight, but the condom slid in smoothly, almost too easily. Kon gripped Tim's hips and began to move his own, rocking and thrusting, pushing in deeper and deeper. Every time he did so, Tim made a small sound, a little gasping 'ah' that curled around Kon's gut and spine and pulled him in even deeper...

"Yes," said Tim, pushing back hard. "Conner, inside me, like that, yes, _yes_ ss..."

"Oh _god_." He wanted to feel _more_ of Tim, without the damn condom in the way. Kon growled a little, then suddenly smirked. Wrapping himself in TTK, he felt it, feeling Tim inside even as he felt himself going in and out-"

"What are you _doing_?" gasped Tim.

"M-my TTK," said Kon. "Like this?" He explored a little more, still pistoning in and out at the same time. Tim went _rigid_ beneath him.

"F- _fuck_ ," he said. "I'm gonna _come_ if you do that."

Kon leaned down and kissed his back. Then his slid one hand down Tim's chest and wrapped it around his dick, giving it a squeeze.

"Conner," gasped Tim. "C-C-Conner!" His voice went high as Kon pushed out tendrils of TTK inside him again. "Ah, _AH_!" His hips jerked violently and his whole body tightened, inside and out. "Conner!" he wailed. Kon shifted his hand so that Tim spilled into it, spurt after spurt as his body spent itself. "K-Kon," he said again, softly, going limp in his arms, and somehow that was what pushed Kon over the edge. He felt it searing through him, pouring out of him in surge after hot surge, blind and deaf to his surroundings for an endless moment.

He barely caught himself before collapsing on top of Tim. Instead, he rolled them both over on their sides so that he was spooning up against Tim's backside. "'m gonna pull out, now," he murmured, and Tim nodded. Kon closed his eyes and shivered as he slid out. Tim rolled over and carefully removed the condom, then cleaned Kon's hand and his spent cock with careful strokes of yet another wipe.

"Always prepared, huh, Tim?" Tim gave him a tired half-smile. Kon closed his eyes as Tim finished cleaning them up, discarded the wipes and spooned up against him again. "That was amazing," said Kon, nuzzling the back of Tim's neck. Tim pushed back into the touch.

"Yeah," he said. The light dimmed as clouds covered the moon again - another storm was blowing in. Tim shivered and pressed closer to Kon. Kon wrapped his arm around Tim's waist and cradled him close. With the last bit of his energy, he used his TTK to slide the comforter up and over them.

Tim sighed at the sudden warmth and relaxed in his arms. "Love you," he mumbled.

"Love you, too," whispered Kon, pressing a kiss on the back of his head. He closed his eyes.

* * *

The sun was warm on his back and arms. Kon opened his eyes and stretched luxuriously, smiling as he felt the energy pouring into him. There was a murmur next to him, and Kon glanced at his bedmate, his expression softening.

Tim's breathing was deep and even. As Kon watched, though, he stirred and tensed, his eyebrows coming together in a frown. "No," he murmured. "No, oh, no no, they fell, they fell. Dick-" His breath caught. "Dick - No, he'll hurt him, he'll _hurt him-_ " Kon laid a hand on Tim's chest, and all at once his face smoothed. "Oh. Oh," he said. "He's good. Batman's _good_." He opened his eyes.

"Hey," said Kon.

Tim blinked and rubbed a hand over his eyes, clearly chasing away the tendrils of the dream. "Hey," he yawned.

"You okay?" said Kon.

Tim gave him a half-smile. "Isn't that *my* line?"

Kon sat up, letting the sheet fall to his waist, and stretched again, reveling in the feeling of the sun on his his naked skin. "I feel fantastic," he said.

Propping his head up on one elbow, Tim watched as Kon slipped out of bed and pulled on his boxers and jeans, leaving his chest bare. "You _look_ pretty fantastic, too," he said.

"'Pretty' fantastic? Not 'really' fantastic?"

Tim's smirk widened into a grin. "I think you're pretty," he said.

Grinning back, Kon slipped back onto the bed to straddle him and kiss him, a gesture Tim returned enthusiastically. Until Kon's communicator went off.

Tim's hands tightened on Kon's arms. "Don't go," he said.

"I have to," said Kon softly.

"You're not back at full strength yet, and I kept you up half the night," said Tim. "There are lots of Titans - they don't expect you to-"

"Tim," said Kon softly, "They need me. They were there for me when that fake Superboy came after me, and when I got sick. Now I need to be there for them."

"Conner." Tim pressed forward and wrapped his arms around Kon's neck, his nose under Kon's ear. He was breathing hard, as though he could suck Kon into himself and hold him safe there. "Conner." Placing a surprisingly gentle kiss beneath his earlobe, he released him and sat back.

"Let's get some food," said Kon, checking the message on the communicator. "I have a couple of minutes before I have to leave." Tim looked down at himself and started to tug Kon's shirt over his head. "You can keep it, if you want," said Kon, and Tim stopped with the shirt half off. "I mean...if you want it. I've got lots of them. Am I being dumb?" he smiled at Tim a little helplessly.

Tim pulled the shirt back down and smoothed it, gazing at the red "S" shield on his chest. "No," said Tim. "You're not being dumb."

[ ](http://suavebastard.livejournal.com/3144.html)  
_"Sunrise Wash" by[suavebastard](http://suavebastard.livejournal.com/3144.html). Please do not re-post without the artist's permission._

* * *

Ma handed Kon a fresh shirt and a brown paper bag. "You can eat on the way, dear," she said, kissing his cheek.

"Thanks, Ma," said Kon, pulling on the fresh shirt. "How did you know I was gonna go?"

Ma glanced at the small TV which they'd brought into the kitchen, breaking a long-standing rule even though the sound was off. Images played across the screen, floods and fires, a shot of what looked like a mushroom cloud, a volcano exploding. Maps appeared one after the other, with overlays of calamities and the damage they'd caused. "Just a guess," she said. She looked at the two of them, then picked up the egg basket and went outside, leaving them alone.

Tim put down his backpack. "Will you do something for me?" he asked quietly as he opened it up and took something out.

"Sure," said Kon. "What is it?"

Tim reached up and pinned whatever-it-was to Kon's shirt just inside his collar. "It's a microphone," he said. "I've been working on the design...it's not two-way, but I'll be able to hear what's happening to you. Will you...will you wear it?"

Kon grinned and shook his head a little. "You are one freaky little voyeur," he said. "Good thing I'm an exhibitionist."

"I didn't realize you were planning on having sex at the Tower," said Tim dryly.

"I'm not," said Kon, then leaned down and whispered in Tim's ear, "But if I did, you'd *definitely* want to listen in, right?" Tim blushed and scowled at him.

"Shut up," he said.

Kon kissed him, quick and sneaky, but instead of objecting as he usually did when Kon tried to start something inside the farmhouse, Tim wrapped his arms around Kon's neck and deepened the kiss.

"I don't want you to go," said Tim softly against his lips after a moment.

"I know," said Kon. "I'm sorry. I'll be back as soon as I can."

The screen door squeaked as Ma came back inside. Tim didn't even pull away. "There's something else," he said.

"Oh? What's that?"

Tim stepped back and took his hand, pressing something cool and hard and edged into Kon's palm. Kon held it up and frowned. It was a crystal. "Someone...left that for you," said Tim. "I think you might need it."

"Who left it?"

"It would take too long to explain," said Tim. "I'll tell you about it when you get back."

* * *

It took time to get there, but eventually the Tower came in sight. Kon swallowed the last of Ma's blueberry muffins. He'd avoided paying attention to the crazy weather and sky as much as possible, focusing entirely on _getting_ there. Now he stopped and hovered, glancing upward for the first time since he'd left the farmhouse.

The sky was a collage of earths made by a madman, spinning out of control and crashing into each other. Kon swallowed again, his mouth suddenly dry, landed, and went in.

There was no one there. Kon looked around the main room, but it was dark and quiet. Until the shadows stirred. "I guess it's just you and me," came a voice from the darkness.

"Nightwing?"

"The one and only," said Nightwing, stepping out of the shadows and flashing him a smile. Something tugged at Kon's memory, but he couldn't place it.

"What do we need to do?" asked Kon.

"We're gonna go to the source," he said. "The source of all this," he gestured to the windows, "chaos. And we're gonna stop it. You need anything?"

"I'm good the way I am," said Kon.

"I saw you coming," said Nightwing. "Tracked your communicator. I don't think anyone else is gonna make it, though." He adjusted the neck of his suit, the bright yellow wings standing out across his chest and shoulders.

"What's with the old uniform?"

Nightwing flashed him another small smile. "I dug the glider-suit out of mothballs. With all the thermals up there, I should be able to fly on my own."

"But, aren't we taking the Batplane?" Kon bit his tongue. The last thing he wanted to do was admit to _Nightwing_ that he wasn't back to his full strength, wasn't up to flying all the way to the North Pole.

Nightwing gave him an odd look. "The weather conditions out there are insane. Electrical storms are screwing up communications. The whole _sky's_ on fire-"

"I know," said Kon, looking out at it. "It's kind of awesome, actually."

"I've seen things like this before," said Nightwing dryly. "The last time the Titans fought _Trigon_. I don't see awesome. I get worried. Really worried."

"I know," said Kon again quickly, feeling like an ass. "I didn't mean..." He trailed off.

"Anyway, if something happens to the Batwing, the suit's my back-up plan." Kon nodded. If there was one thing he'd learned from Robin, it was that Bats _always_ had a back-up plan. Usually several.

Nightwing was looking at him narrowly.

"What?" said Kon.

"You sure you're up for this? You haven't really had any time to recover," he said.

Kon squared his shoulders and gave Nightwing his best Superboy grin. "I'm recovered enough," he said. Nightwing didn't look convinced, but he just nodded and stepped into the plane.

Once they were both strapped in, Kon took out the crystal and stared down at it. It was glowing in his hand, pulsing softly. "What's that?" asked Nightwing.

"My friend gave it to me. He said that someone left it for me," said Kon, "while I was...sick. I don't know who, or what it's for, but I think it's important."

"There's a scanner on the dash," said Nightwing. "Not as powerful as the Batcomputer, but maybe it can analyze it." He flipped out a small arm with a pincer on the end. Kon hooked it around the crystal and watched as Nightwing pushed several buttons. The dashboard began to hum. "It might take a while," said Nightwing, watching the sky.

Kon stared out the window, letting the silence hang between them. Glaciers covered half the landscape below them. "Any idea where we are?"

"Hard to tell with the glaciers, but I think that's Vancouver," said Nightwing. "Which means-" The dashboard pinged. Nightwing glanced at the readout and his eyes widened. "The crystal's tied into the source of the disturbances," he said. Reaching out, he released it from the pincer and handed it back to Kon. "Hang onto it, Superboy. According to this, it'll act like a compass." He veered the plane to the left, and the crystal dimmed. When he corrected their course, it brightened again. "See?"

"Handy," said Superboy. Before he could say anything else, there was a crash below them. He stuck the crystal in his pocket and took off.

"Let's go," said Nightwing, releasing his straps.

"Way ahead of you," said Kon, diving and taking in the situation at a glance. Apparently the area was being evacuated. Huge cruise ships were being loaded with people to ferry them out. Somehow one of the glaciers had crashed into a ship, splitting it apart down the middle.

Working together, the two of them gathered the survivors and carried them to safety. As he lifted a huge metal sheet and carried yet another group out of the water, Kon felt his strength faltering. Relief washed over him as he landed. "I...I think that was the last one," he gasped.

"We can't take chances. Let's do one more sweep," said Nightwing. "I'll check the top level."

"Yeah, you do that," said Kon, trying not to crumple to his knees. "Can't...give in," he muttered. "Have to do this..."

"No one up there, guess we got them all- Superboy!" Nightwing was at his side in seconds, trying to prop him up. "Is it the injuries?"

"I'm _fine_ ," growled Kon. "Just forget it, okay? I'm just tired-"

"Dammit, let me _help_ you!"

"I'm _good_!" He wasn't going to look weak in front of Nightwing.

"If you need-"

"I'm not going to give up again! I'm _not!_ "

"Superboy, what I need from you is for you to get _better_ ," said Nightwing. "It's okay if you're not ready. I can get there without you, and others will get the signal and meet us there when they can."

"Look. I'm not one-hundred percent, but I'm _never_ going to give up again. You have to trust me on that, Nightwing-" The ship exploded beneath them, flinging Nightwing into the icy waters.

" _Nightwing!_ " Kon dove through the air. "Hang on! I've g-got you! You're going to be okay...you're going to be fine!" cried Kon as he pulled Nightwing from the water.

"F-freezing," gasped Nightwing. "Got to g-get this suit off."

"Hold still," said Kon. He landed on a half-intact piece of the ship. Concentrating, he sent a wave of TTK over Nightwing's body. The suit pulled apart before his eyes, leaving Nightwing naked in his boxers. His mask came off at the same time.

Kon used his heat vision on the broken bits of wall, warming them, then glanced down again. He froze.

"You're - you're _Dick Grayson_ ," he said blankly.

"You didn't k-know?" asked Dick in surprise. "I thought all the Titans knew. Your boyfriend d-does-"

_Tim_. Kon felt sick. Suddenly he remembered, clear and sharp, Tim saying, _Have you *met* Nightwing?_ The hungry look in his eyes.

"Of course he does," said Kon, fighting down nausea and a strange bitterness.

"H-hate that uniform," Dick went on, "Too heavy to m-move in...r-reason I stopped wearing it-"

"Why'd you wear it tonight, then?"

Dick shrugged. "Thought if y-you didn't have to w-worry about me you could conserve your own strength..."

"That's why you wore it?" Kon blinked at him. "I thought-"

"My other suit's in my pack. My arctic s-suit-"

"Where- no, I know," said Kon, a stab of guilt going through him. "I'll get it! Wait here!" He dove into the air, heading for the plane.

_He was trying to help me,_ he thought. _He's as amazing as they say. No wonder Tim..._ Kon shook himself. _It's just a crush,_ he thought. _Yeah, a crush he's had for *years*_ , a perverse voice in his head reminded him. _How'd Nightwing even know about your boyfriend, anyway?_ Suddenly he wondered if the mic Tim had pinned to his shirt was still working, or if the cold water or the explosion had damaged it.

It didn't matter. He grabbed the pack and started flying back to where he'd left Dick. Halfway there, another explosion rocked the ground behind him. Glancing back, he saw that the Batplane was in flames.

"The Batplane's fried," he said, handing Dick his pack. Dick nodded and skinned into his suit faster than Kon would have thought humanly possible.

"Can you fly us the rest of the way?"

Kon took the crystal out of his pocket and looked at its steady glow. "Yes," he said.

"You sure? You don't have anything to prove to anyone," said Dick.

_Yes I do_ , thought Kon. "I feel like I'm hanging out with my best friend's brother-" _and the guy my boyfriend has a crush on,_ "-and I can't say or do anything right."

"You've saved Robin's life a dozen times over," said Dick. "Stop looking at me like I'm one of those goddamn statues they've got sitting in front of the Tower. I'm not a god. I'm a Titan. Like you."

"When Luthor took over my body, I *broke* Steph's leg," said Kon, holding out the crystal for Dick to take. As he wrapped his hand around it, a flash of light enveloped them. Jumbled images poured through Kon's head, some he recognized, some he didn't. "Wh-what's happening?"

"The crystal. I think it's reacting to our memories," said Dick. "Superboy - Conner - Listen to me. I grew up with the Titans. I made mistakes. We *all* did. But we trusted each other. And I trust you. Do you trust yourself?"

The question hit Kon like a kryptonite-fueled blow to the chest. "I...after what Luthor did to me, I kinda forgot _how_ ," he admitted. "I used to trust myself *too* much. I was arrogant...cocky. But after Donna..." He shook his head. "I couldn't be so cocky anymore, not after she *died* right in front of us. In front of me. But I came back to the team, we all did. And then Luthor took over..." He swallowed, fighting the tremor in his voice at the memory. "I left the team. Even after Raven helped me, I couldn't go back, I was so _ashamed_ , so-" He stopped abruptly, remembering who he was talking to. "And now it's all falling apart - Wonder Girl, Starfire, Cyborg, Kid Flash...it's all falling apart again, just like it did after Donna died, and it's my fault..."

"If there's one thing I've learned, it's that the Titans will always come back together in the end. Trust your friends, Conner."

Kon let go of the crystal. The flow of images and memories stopped, leaving him hollow with relief. He looked at Dick. "Everyone's right about you," he said hoarsely.

"Right about what?"

"You really are that awesome."

Dick grinned at him, manic and bright. "Let's not make this a moment," he said.

Kon chuckled in spite of himself and wrapped one arm around Dick's waist. "Let's fly," he said and lifted into the air, letting the crystal guide him.

* * *

The clock in the Kent kitchen ticked steadily, but Tim didn't hear it. He sat in front of his computer, headphones covering his ears as he strained to catch another word, another _syllable_...

The early conversations had come through loud and clear. But after Conner had rescued Nightwing ( _Dick, he rescued *Dick*!_ ), as they moved further north the signal became weak and began to drop out. There was some sort of static interference, too. Tim boosted the power on the receiver as high as he could, but it was useless. He was left trying to parse bits of words that made no sense. "...Rob...nd...we...*skrkt*..."

Still, he listened, recording everything. It didn't matter if he could understand it or not; as long as he could hear Conner's voice, it meant that Conner was alive. So he stayed at his computer, keeping vigil. Ma brought him a sandwich at some point, and Pa gave him a block of wood and a Pa's old pocketknife - Tim had never been much good at whittling, but it was something to do with his hands as he waited...and listened.

He opened his eyes and blinked. It was dark outside. A single light still burned in the kitchen. The clock said it was 10:30. Ma and Pa must be in bed.

A burst of noise filled his ears, and Tim realized what had woken him. "-clear a path!" Conner yelled, the sounds of screaming and fighting in the background. It cut out again. The silence seemed to ring. Tim strained his ears, hearing phantom shouts.

"Guys. Down there. He's back. Superboy's _back_." It was Conner's voice. Tim gasped and bit his lip. Superboy. The _fake_ Superboy who'd almost killed Conner the first time...

_He's not alone_ , Tim reminded himself. _He's got other heroes there. He's with *Nightwing*._

Nightwing's voice came through as though on cue. "Forget him. Focus on _this_. You've still got that tactile telekinesis, right?"

_Nightwing's trying to keep him away from the other Superboy. He'll protect him._

"I can disassemble things by touching them, but...if you're thinking about the tower, it's too _big_."

"You have to try."

_No, don't push him! He's only just recovered, he's not even at full strength yet! If he's hurt too badly, his body will start eating itself again!_

"C'mon, Conner. Block everything else out. You can _do_ this." Nightwing's voice was warm and strong and encouraging.

"I _know_ ," said Conner.

Tim's hands closed into fists on on the table. "Conner," he whispered. "Conner, be careful..."

A shrill scream in the background. "Cassie!" cried Conner. Then laughter; horrible, familiar laughter.

"Can I join your team-up?" The fake Superboy's voice mocked. " _Nightwing?_ Come on, now. You actually think you can _fight_ me? All those _Titans_ did, too. Those _stupid_ Titans." He laughed again. The sound was louder. "I'm going to tell you a secret. I wasn't even _trying_ last time."

"Neither was *I*. Round Two!" yelled Conner. Tim felt his lips twitch even as his eyes stung.

"Why are you still fighting me? Don't you underst-" The fake's voice cut off sharply in a burst of static. "*skt* - _real_ heroes - *sht* - polite, honest - *SHKT*"

"I let you judge me," Conner's voice came back a moment later with the clarity of a tolling bell. "Beat me down. But you went after my friends? My family? You went after my _boyfriend_? You went after my *world*? No _way_. No DAMN WAY!" A crunching sound, followed by a ZAP and a sharp cry. "I'm sick of your _hypocrisy!_ "

"What does that word even _mean_?" said the fake, and Tim had to grin again in spite of everything, because almost two years ago, he'd explained the meaning of the word 'hypocrisy' to Conner when he'd been tutoring him.

That had been before he'd _known_. Before they'd even been friends! He'd _hated_ Conner. It was hard to imagine, now.

"Your world is finished. I'll be the r-r- _real_ Superboy again. *I* will. M-M-ME!"

An incoherent yell - Tim _thought_ it was Conner - then a crashing sound and a sound so loud that Tim flinched, his ears ringing.

"I did it, Tim," came Conner's voice, broken and weak. "I'm sorry, I can't - I love you, Tim." Another crash.

Then silence.

* * *  

It was over. The earthquakes, floods, fires, glaciers...the skies filled with alternate earths smashing into each other...the tornadoes and hurricanes. The world held its breath and started the difficult process of cleaning up and dealing with the aftermath.

It was almost exactly 36 hours after Tim received Conner's final, whispered message that he looked through the kitchen window to see the Batplane gliding silently past overhead. His heart clenched at the sight, but he waited. Waited until Dick Grayson came to the door in civilian clothes, accompanied by Stephanie Brown. Conner wasn't with them.

Ma let them in. Tim couldn't hear what she said to them past the roaring in his ears.

Dick sat down next to him. "Tim," he said.

Tim met his eyes. Something sharp and cold settled in his gut. "Conner," he said. "He...he didn't make it, did he?"

Dick reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry," he said. "He saved everyone. He saved the world. He died a hero."

"No," whispered Tim. "Oh, no. No. He can't be dead. He - you're _lying!_ "

"I'm sorry," said Dick again.

"How...how could you let him _die_?" Tim shot to his feet, his chair tumbling to the floor with a crash. "You - you're _Dick Grayson!_ You've been my hero my entire _life!_ "

Dick stood up more slowly. "Tim-"

"I don't understand! Why didn't you _save_ him?"

"I tried, Tim." Dick's voice was quiet. Suddenly Tim found himself enveloped in strong arms and pulled against a hard chest. Dick smelled like soap and sweat and metal and ashes. It was wrong. It was all _wrong_. "I'm sorry. God, I'm so sorry." Dick's shoulders were shaking. Tim looked up and saw tears on his cheeks.

"I loved you," said Tim, and he wasn't crying, he was too hollow, it hurt too much. "I loved you so much. Why didn't you save him?"

"It's not his fault!" Stephanie Brown had tears in her eyes, too. Her hands were clenched into fists. "He tried to save him, Tim!"

"And where were _you_?" yelled Tim, suddenly furious. "He called you his best friend! You should have been there!" He closed his eyes, feeling sick and empty. His voice dropped. " _I_ should have been there."

Stephanie's mouth was open to reply, but at Tim's last words, she stopped and closed it, staring at him. One of Dick's hands stroked over his hair. "Even if you had been," he said gently, "the outcome would have been the same. Conner sacrificed himself to save the world. It was his choice, Tim."

" _No!_ " Tim pushed himself violently away from Dick. "He wouldn't have chosen to _leave me!_ " He stumbled back and into someone else, someone soft. Turning, he looked into Ma's eyes. Her face was wet. "Ma," he said desperately. " _Ma_."

She enveloped him in a hug. "Timmy," she said.

~End of Year Two: Fall~


	10. Year Three: "New Growth", Winter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"I'm not going anywhere with you people." He stood up. "I'm leaving."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 6086 words this chapter  
> Rating: R this chapter (see warnings)  
> This was a very difficult chapter. I really hope you guys like it! As always, thanks to batstalker and the_protagonist, my cheerleaders, and iesika, my partner in crime. <3 Love you guys.   
> Warnings: Suicidal thoughts. Parental clashes. (Highlight to read the spoiler text.)  
> 

Tim listened with half an ear as his parents talked about their latest trip over their after-dinner coffee. They seemed to be in one of their good phases - his mom laughed at his father's jokes and looked at him warmly; his dad grinned at her and teased her about the Christmas present he'd gotten her.

"You'll have to wait until tomorrow morning, just like Timothy," he said.

"Oh, _Jack_ ," she laughed.

"I'm glad you two-" _are getting along so well_ "-had such a good time," said Tim quietly.

"Oh, we did," said his mother. Her eyes rested on his face. "How are you, Tim? You seem tired. Are you all right?"

Tim hesitated. His dad looked at him inquiringly. Finally Tim said, "Do you remember Conner Kent? He came to my birthday party a couple of years ago."

His dad frowned a little, clearly trying to call up the memory. His mom said, "Of course. That good-looking dark-haired young man. From down the road, right?"

Tim nodded and drew a hand through his hair. "Something. Something bad happened to him."

His father looked concerned. "What happened?"

"He..." Tim stopped, thinking of the lie they'd all agreed upon.

_"Perhaps we shouldn't...tell people right away," Ma said._

_Tim looked up to find her and Pa exchanging a significant look. Sudden hope shot through him. "You think...you think he might come back? Like Clark did?"_

_"No," said Pa quickly._

_"Oh, honey, no," said Ma at the same time. "Conner was half-human, remember?"_

_They were right. Tim felt the hope die and slip away again. If only he hadn't been. If only he'd been a full clone of Superman, maybe he...but then he wouldn't have been Conner, would he? Tim had loved him exactly as he was. "Then, why...?"_

_"Well, if we let it out that Conner..." she had to stop and swallow, brushing at her eyes for a moment. "...that Conner died, there'll be a lot of questions. People will want to know what happened. Everyone'll expect us to have a funeral..."_

_A *funeral*. Tim felt sick at the thought. Funerals were social events in Smallville. He knew exactly how it would be - the big church, filled with his classmates, all those people, talking about Conner. All those people who never even really *knew* him-_

"Tim?" His mother's voice broke into his thoughts. He shook his head.

"Sorry, mom." He drew a breath. "Conner is...he's sick. He's...he's dying. Leukemia."

His dad frowned. "It's not contagious, right?"

Tim and his mom both just looked at him. "It's _cancer_ , Jack. Not AIDS," said his mom dryly.

"Right," said his dad, looking embarrassed. "So, he's in the hospital?"

The lie was easy, maybe because Tim wished it were true. "His mom took him...away. Far away, to some clinic."

Silence for a long moment. "Do you want to go visit him, Tim?"

_If only I could, mom._ "His mom, she. She doesn't get along with the Kents. At all. She wouldn't even tell them where she was taking him. He's probably checked in under a different name." Not that any of that would stop Tim if it were true, but his parents wouldn't know that. "I'll probably never see him again."

"Oh, Tim, I'm so sorry. I know you two are close," said his mom.

Tim nodded. His chest hurt. For a moment he wished he could tell them the truth.

"I loved him," he heard himself say. "I was in love with him."

Silence. Tim looked up. His parents were staring at him. "In love, like..." His father frowned. "But you're...you're not gay, right, Tim?"

_Oh. Yes, of course that would be an issue. I didn't even think..._

Tim sighed, suddenly feeling very tired. "I'm gay, dad."

"Are. Are you sure?" His dad had an odd look on his face, worry and a touch of revulsion.

" _Very_ sure," said Tim firmly.

"You and he..."

"Yes."

"Oh. Are you sure he doesn't have AIDS or something?"

" _Dad_ , he-" Tim clamped his jaw shut for a moment. "He didn't - doesn't have AIDs." It was too bad his parents hadn't seen Conner when he'd shaved his head. Ma and Pa had agreed that it would give weight to their story. At the time, Conner had told people that he'd lost a bet...

"Tim," said his mom. Tim looked up at her. "Have you... _tried_ with a girl?"

He looked at them both in disbelief. Conner was dying, was _dead_ , and *this* was what they were concerned about? He couldn't help the sharp and humorless bark of laughter that rose to his lips. "I've never met a girl I had the remotest interest in."

"Well, it stands to reason," said his mother, relief in her tone. "Here in _Smallville_. I mean, the girls here, they're not exactly on your level, are they? We've left you cooped up here too long. Next week, when we go to New York for the New Year's Party, you'll come with us. I'll introduce you to-"

"No." The syllable, hard, flat, and uncompromising, startled him almost as much as it did his parents. "I'm not going anywhere with you people." He stood up. "I'm leaving." As the words left his mouth, he felt relief wash through him, as though a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

His father stared. "What? Where will you go?"

"I'm going to live with the Kents," he said, realizing it was true as he said it. "Conner did a lot of the heavy work around the farm. Now that he's gone, they're going to need someone to help out." He went to the corner cupboard where he stored his backpack for easy access and pulled it out, checking that his laptop, change of clothes and toothbrush were all there.

"But...tomorrow's Christmas!" said his dad. "Don't you even want your _present?_ "

Tim zipped his backpack and looked up. "Is it money?"

His mom and dad looked at each other. "Yes," said his dad. "Early access to your trust fund. You've been so responsible with the card we gave you-"

"Good. Give it to me now." Tim held out his hand. His father blinked at him, then turned and went into the front room where their large, fake, flocked Christmas tree stood. While they waited for him to return, Tim met his mother's eyes.

"We want more for you than a job as a farm-hand," she started.

"This isn't about what you want," said Tim as his father came back carrying a wrapped envelope. "It's about what I want." He held out his hand expectantly.

"Why should I give this to you?" said his dad.

Tim shrugged. "I'll be eighteen in seven months anyway."

His dad's eyes narrowed. "We could take your name off the trust."

Tim shrugged again. "I don't really need it. I would survive."

"No," said his mom suddenly. "Take it. Give it to him, Jack." There was something in her eyes, the beginning of something like panic, something like pain. Tim saw it, and felt nothing.

Jack scowled and shoved the envelope into Tim's hand. Tim tucked it carefully into his backpack. "Thank you," he said formally. He met his mother's eyes again. "Don't worry," he said. "My presents for you are all under the tree already. You can open them tomorrow and it will be just like I'm there, right?" He watched his mom's eyes widen as the shot hit home.

"Tim-" she said.

"You won't even know I'm gone," he said, and turned to leave.

* * *

The walk to the farm seemed longer than normal. Tim had grabbed his coat on his way out the door, but the night still felt bitterly cold. The dirt road was soft under his feet, the sky clear. He could see the milky way.

He was numb, inside and out, but he knew he wouldn't regret his decision. It was rare for him to do anything on impulse like this. Usually he planned everything to the last detail, but tonight, the things he needed to say had just come out without any forethought whatsoever.

The lights were still on at the farmhouse. Tim glanced through the dining room window - and froze. Clark was there.

He'd completely forgotten that Clark would be there.

Tim stood very still. They looked...very comfortable together in there. Pa was sitting with a cup of black coffee in his hand. Clark was saying something to him, and Pa was smiling. As Tim watched, Ma entered the frame of the brightly-lit window. She was dressed in nice clothes - ah, she would probably be driving to Midnight Mass later. She kissed Pa on the head as she passed, and he grinned at her and goosed her, making her jump and turn and say something Tim couldn't hear but could well imagine as Pa chuckled. Clark just shook his head fondly at them.

Tim watched them for a long time, until the cold seeped through his jacket, into his fingers and toes and nose. It was too dark outside for them to see him, covered by shadows as he was. He didn't think, he just watched. And then he turned to go.

He would find a hotel to stay in, and tomorrow he'd...

Ma's voice echoed in his head, the memory vivid. _You'll always have a place with us. *Always*._

Tim closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He turned back to the farmhouse and made himself climb the steps.

_They still need you,_ he told himself. _Clark won't be staying that long, and they'll need someone to help with the chores. They..._

Another voice broke in, in counterpoint. " _You don't have to look for a reason to come over. You don't ever have to try to find an *excuse*, Tim._ "

He lifted his hand to knock, then let it fall again. He didn't want to intrude. He could always come back after Christmas was over.

_Dude!_ Conner's voice was so clear in his mind that it made his breath stop in his throat. _How can you be so smart but so *dumb*?_ Tim had told Conner how afraid he'd been that Ma and Pa wouldn't want him around any more, with Conner there. He'd tapped Tim on the forehead, Tim remembered, in lieu of the smack upside the head he'd said Tim deserved. _There. Remember that the next time you feel like being an *idiot*._

Tim swallowed hard. _I remember, Conner_. He took a moment to compose himself, drew in a deep breath, and knocked on the door.

* * *

It was Clark who answered. He looked a little startled, but smiled warmly. "Hello, Tim. Won't you come in?" Ma and Pa looked up as Tim stepped into the warm, bright kitchen.

"Tim!" Ma seemed pleased and surprised. "We didn't expect to see you?" Krypto echoed her pleasure with several joyful barks.

"Did your parents leave early again?" asked Pa. Tim could hear the effort he was making not to sound judgmental.

Shaking his head, Tim said, "No. No, I...I did." Krypto put his paws on Tim's shoulders and started trying to lick his face. "Down, boy!"

"Krypto," Clark's voice was admonishing. "Won't you come have a seat, Tim? We're just finishing dessert. Would you like some?"

Tim's stomach twisted at the thought of food. "I - no, thank you," said Tim quickly. "I had dinner with my parents." It was technically true, even if Tim hadn't eaten much. He slid into his usual place at the table, across from where Clark was sitting.

Ma set a cup of tea before him. It steamed, a pleasant, spicy scent rising from it. Tim picked it up and cradled it in his cold hands, alternately blowing on it and inhaling the scent.

"Son," said Pa, making Tim look up. "Did something happen?"

Tim looked back down at his tea and took a breath. "I told them about...about Conner," he said. "I told them the story we'd agreed on, and. About Conner and. Me."

"Oh," said Ma, and silence fell for several long moments.

Finally Pa spoke up. "What did they say?" he ventured.

Tim's lips twisted in a bitter smile despite himself. "They asked if I was sure if I was gay, and if I'd ever _tried_ with a girl."

There was the sound of a quick, indrawn breath (Ma), and and explosively expelled one (Pa). Tim couldn't meet their eyes, so he looked across at Clark instead. Clark was frowning, but he seemed more confused than anything else. "They didn't know about you and Conner?" he said.

Tim shook his head. "They knew we were friends. They didn't know we were..." he couldn't say it.

"More than friends?" suggested Clark, his voice soft.

"Yeah," said Tim. He dared a glance at Pa and then Ma. Pa looked angry. Ma couldn't quite hide her sadness. "I thought," Tim began, then stopped and took a breath. "I told them I was going to stay here," he said in a rush. "If it's okay with you, of course. You need help with the farm, and-"

"Of course it's okay," said Ma. "You're always welcome here, Tim."

"I'll be glad to know that someone's here to help out," said Clark. "Especially now that...I can't be here as much as I'd like."

Tim looked at him curiously. "Why not? Can't you just fly out-?" He stopped at the startled look on Clark's face.

"Tim hasn't been watching the news the past few months," said Ma in an almost apologetic tone.

Tim blinked, suddenly embarrassed without knowing why. "What am I missing?" he said.

"Clark's lost his powers," said Pa bluntly. "He's been living as a normal human."

"Oh." Tim thought back over the glimpses of news he'd caught online or on the TV since Conner died. He'd always turned it off right away, especially if it mentioned Superman or Superboy. He couldn't bear to hear people waxing poetic over Superboy's 'great sacrifice' or the 'tragedy of his death'. Now that he considered it, though, he hadn't heard much about Superman, not since Conner's death. "Is it, um...permanent?"

"I don't know," said Clark. He looked rueful. "We've tried not to let it out too much, but...I thought you knew."

Tim bit his lip. "I'm sorry," he said. "I haven't been thinking very clearly-"

"It's all right!" Clark lifted both hands to stop him. "I'm not upset, really. But my regular job takes up a lot more of my time, now, so...I'm glad to know that you'll be here to help out Ma and Pa. Thank you, Tim" He gave Tim a warm, wide smile. Tim felt himself flush and looked down into his cooling tea. He took a sip and nodded awkwardly.

* * *

"I'll sleep in the loft," said Tim after the dishes were done.

"There's no insulation out there," said Ma. "You'll freeze, Tim."

He shook his head. "I'll use plenty of blankets, and the walls will keep out the wind. And I can run an extension cord from the outdoor outlet and use and electric blanket if I need to. I'll be fine."

Ma frowned and opened her mouth, but Pa spoke up first. "You'll come in if you're too cold, right? The downstairs couch is open if you need it."

Tim nodded gratefully. "I'll be fine," he said again.

Later, as he shivered under the blankets, he considered going inside after all. He hadn't slept out here since...and of course Ma had changed the sheets, pillows, and blankets. It wasn't like the bed smelled like Conner any more. And it _was_ cold, drafts penetrating the uninsulated walls and chilling him.

Just as he was about to give up and go inside, he felt a weight thump down onto the bed next to him. "Who's there?" he said.

"Woof." Krypto wriggled, spreading out on the bed next to him.

"Go away, mutt," said Tim half-heartedly. "You probably have space fleas or something."

"Mrr?" Krypto trilled at him curiously.

"Oh, all right." Tim reached over and buried his fingers in the dog's short fur, feeling the heat radiating from him. He didn't smell anything like Conner, which Tim supposed was to be expected. Earth-dogs didn't smell like humans. Why would a Kryptonian-dog smell like a Kryptonian? Or a half-Kryptonian, for that matter.

"Stupid dog," muttered Tim, scratching his head as Krypto sighed in contentment. At least now Tim was warmer, thanks to his Kryptonian-canine space-heater. Tim let his mind wander. He'd bought a new satellite dish for Ma and Pa for Christmas. Their old one was was becoming obsolete due to changes in technology. The new one was bigger and should get better reception.

It was going to be difficult to mount, thought Tim. He'd planned on asking Clark for help, but now that Clark was powerless...Tim hadn't known he was powerless. Tim would just have to figure something out. If he was careful, he could tether himself and use a rope and pulley-

A new thought struck him. His eyes flew open.

He could fall.

He could _fall_.

It would be an accident, after all. No one's fault. Just one of those tragic things, and...and he wouldn't have to...

Sense re-asserted itself, making him shake his head. Krypto lifted his head, his eyes gleaming at Tim in the darkness. "It's nothing, boy. Just a crazy idea." Tim snuggled a little closer to the sprawling dog's warmth.

Ma and Pa would never forgive themselves if Tim got hurt while trying to install a gift for them. Besides, they needed him right now. With Clark's powers gone, they _really_ needed his help. And a fall like that was necessarily risky. He might just break his neck, and no matter how miserable he was, Tim was pretty sure things would be worse if he were quadriplegic.

No, he'd need something surer. And only if Clark's powers came back, or Tim found someone reliable to help out at the farm. And it couldn't happen here at the farm, it had to be somewhere far away, some sort of unavoidable tragedy. He'd need to be over eighteen, in control of his own trust fund, so he could make sure to Will it to Ma and Pa - it should be enough to support them for the rest of their lives, and enough for them to 'disappear' if they ever had to, in case Clark's secret ever became known. Speaking of which, he should make provisions for that, too.

It really would be better for everyone, Tim thought. His parents wouldn't have to worry about him embarrassing them with his homosexuality, and Ma and Pa could hardly refuse to accept his money if he Willed it to them. They would be sad, of course, but they would go on fine without him.

Tomorrow he would have to look up the most successful means of suicide-

The thought brought him up short.

Suicide?

That was what he was planning, wasn't it? He'd make it look like an accident, but what it came down to was killing himself. Giving up.

What would Conner say?

_...the next time you feel like being an *idiot*..._

But Conner wasn't here.

Conner _wasn't here_ , and that was really the crux of the issue, wasn't it?

Tim took a deep breath, smelling Krypto's odd, mildly unpleasant alien-dog smell mingling with the scents of hay and wood. He couldn't even begin to think about this until he was eighteen anyway, and could make a proper Will. He might have access to his trust fund, but that didn't mean he had control of it, and if he died now, the money would go back to his parents instead of to Ma and Pa. There was no way he'd do that to them, not when he almost had the means to set them up for the rest of their lives almost in his grasp.

His eighteenth birthday would be in July.

Tim resolved to put all thoughts of killing himself out of his head until at least June.

* * *

"Let me get that for you, Pa."

Pa looked up from hoeing the garden and wiped his brow on the back of his sleeve. "Aren't you home a bit early, son?" he said as he handed over the hoe.

Tim just shrugged and didn't reply. He accepted the hoe and started working.

Later, when he'd finished and washed up, he went into the kitchen for a glass of water. The cabinet door squeaked as he opened it, reminding him that he'd meant to oil it. Ma came in as he was searching under the sink for the oil, and a moment later Pa followed, the door swinging shut behind him.

"Son?" said Pa. "Could we talk to you for a moment?"

Tim bit his lip, his heart sinking. What if they didn't want him to stay there anymore? What if they sent him home? He stood up slowly, oil can in hand. "Sure, Pa. What is it?"

"Well...it's just that it's the third time this week that you've come home early from school," said Pa. "We're a mite concerned."

Quick relief flowed through him, then Tim sighed and frowned. How could he explain to them how _pointless_ it all seemed now? It was a torture to have to sit through stupid classes and listen to stupider teachers droning on, remembering how Conner...remembering things _he'd_ said about them, remembering sitting next to him at lunch, walking home with him after class. "I already know this stuff anyway," he said. "If I ever need to, I can take the GED test and pass high school that way."

"I suppose that's true enough," said Pa thoughtfully.

Tim turned away and reached up to oil the squeaky hinge, hoping they would drop the matter. He grabbed a rag from under the sink - _not_ one of Ma's good dish towels, of course - and wiped off the excess oil. "I'm going to put this in the laundry," he said, and pushed his way through the kitchen's swinging door.

It was as he was returning that he heard Ma's voice. "I wonder if they'll blame us," she said meditatively.

"Blame us? Who?" came Pa's voice through the door.

"Tim's parents, of course. I wonder if they'll blame us for Tim choosing to drop out of school. They'll probably think we're a bad influence," she added, her voice dry.

"Does it matter?" Pa asked, "They-" He stopped, because Tim was shoving open the door, a quick anger surging through him.

"I won't let them say that!"

"Tim!" Ma seemed startled.

Tim was frowning. "If they said that, I..." He wasn't sure *what* he would do, actually. "I'd never let them say that about you!"

Ma hesitated, then said, "They wouldn't be entirely unjustified if they did, Tim. After all, you are in our care, so to speak."

"I'm seventeen!" Tim looked at the floor and up again. Pa was staring at Ma with a confused expression. "I'm old enough to make my own choices!"

"Of course you are, Tim." Ma's voice was gentle. "But..."

"But...I'm not of age, yet." Tim rubbed a hand through his hair. "They probably _would_ say that, wouldn't they?"

"Tim," said Pa firmly, "We don't care what your parents think of us."

"I know you don't," said Tim, but his mind was already busy. He would finish his senior year with straight As, he decided. He'd stick it out. _No one_ would be able to say that the Kents were a bad influence on him.

* * *

"...a bit manipulative?" Pa's voice came through the open window the next day as Tim climbed the steps. He was home early again, but this time it was actually legal. He'd spoken with his councilor and arranged to drop some of the non-essential classes he'd signed up for. Turned out, with the extra work he'd done over the past few years, he only needed two more classes to graduate. He could take them in the the mornings, then come home and help with the farm in the afternoons.

"What do you mean?" said Ma.

"I mean Tim," said Pa, and Tim froze halfway up the steps. "I know you don't care what _those people_ think of you."

"No," said Ma, "Of course not. It's just...he's so close, Jonathon. Just a few more months. He's gotten A's in every class, every year...even in those awful months after..." She didn't finish the thought. She didn't need to. Tim felt the familiar pain, like something had taken his heart and squeezed it hard. Something pressed against his hand, making him jump. He looked down to find Krypto nosing him. Absently, he reached down to pet the super-dog even as Pa's next words came to his ears.

"But why shouldn't he take that test and get his degree that way? You and I both know he would pass it just fine."

Ma was silent for a moment. Tim heard the kettle begin to whistle and imagined her busying herself with teacups. Finally she said, "He's _so_ bright, Jonathon. He's young, he's brilliant, and he has the money to go anywhere he wishes - even assuming he _wasn't_ offered plenty of scholarships, which he certainly will be. He could go _anywhere_ , Jonathon...Harvard, Yale, MIT...even the Sorbonne or Oxford, if he wants to. Nothing is out of his reach! And if he gets A's in his last few classes, he'll probably be the school valedictorian, which will look a lot better than just passing some test, I would think. I just don't want him to regret..."

"The way you regret?" Pa's voice was so quiet, Tim had to strain to hear it.

There was a pause before Ma spoke again. "Things were so different then. I was so _angry_. At my parents...at the government, for taking you _away_ , just when we-"

"I know," said Pa.

"Lord knows it hasn't mattered that much, living here as I do. But, yes. I always did regret it a little, after I got over my anger, after you came back. But then we got married, and I got pregnant, and lost that first baby," for a moment, there was a shadow of pain in her voice. "And by that point, it was just...too late to go back."

Tim tried to breathe as quietly as possible, even though guilt and shock were making his heart pound. He knew he shouldn't be listening, but...he'd never known these things about Ma. He hadn't realized she'd had a miscarriage, possibly multiple miscarriages, from the way she'd said 'first' baby. He'd never realized she hadn't finished high school. Krypto's soft 'wuff' brought him out of his reverie. He scratched the dog behind his ears, hoping he'd stay quiet.

"Tim," said Pa, and Tim started. "Tim could help tutor you, if _you_ wanted to take that test, I'll bet."

Ma laughed. "Things are different now," she said. "Remember what my second cousin Mildred said in her Christmas card? About little Johnny? They're teaching _algebra_ in _fifth grade_ now, Johnathon. I have no doubt I could learn what I needed to, but it would be a lot of hard work, and for what? A piece of paper with my name on it. I don't have many regrets in my life, my love. Leave me with this one. It's not something that keeps me up at night."

"And Tim?"

"Tim is young yet. He needs to get out and _live_ ," she said firmly. "He needs to make friends who are his intellectual equals. He needs to learn that there's more to the world than Smallville and superheroes. We won't be around forever," she added, more slowly. "I need to know that he'll be all right when we're not here anymore."

"That's a long way off," said Pa.

"Anything could happen. We're Superman's parents, after all. And Clark can't come to our rescue anymore."

_And Pa's heart is none too strong_ , mentally added Tim, though he knew she wouldn't say it out loud. Their voices disappeared abruptly as they went out of the kitchen and deeper into the house.

Tim finally made himself climb back down the steps. He started blindly down the road, moving automatically in the direction of his old house. Krypto sniffed after him and followed him a ways, but Tim didn't notice.

His parents weren't at home, and he needed time to think.

Ma wanted him to graduate and go to a good school. Tim didn't really want to leave the farm, but if it was what Ma wanted...

Besides, it would take him far away, where anything might happen to him.

* * *

"Here he his now," said Ma as Tim pushed open screen door and stepped into the kitchen. He stopped short.

His mom was sitting across from Ma, a cup of tea sitting in front of her. As she looked up at him, he saw with shock that there were tears on her cheeks. He'd almost never seen his mom cry, and on the rare occasions when he had, it was always because she was angry with his dad about something.

"Mom? What's wrong? Did you and dad have a fight? What are you doing _here_?"

She shook her head slowly, wrapping her hands around the teacup but not drinking. "No, we didn't have a fight." She stopped.

Tim frowned and set his backpack on its usual hook. He glanced at Ma for help, but she was busying herself pouring out another cup of tea. Tim came and stood next to her, looking across the table at his mom.

"Your mother has something to ask you, Tim," Ma said in a gently encouraging voice. His mom threw her a nervous look. Ma slid the newly-filled teacup in front of Tim and smiled at him. "I have some things to take care of," she said, getting up. "Help yourselves to more tea and cookies." She gestured to a plate on the table of obviously-untouched sugar cookies. Normally Tim would have taken one, but his stomach was doing somersaults. Reluctantly, he sat down.

"I didn't expect you home from school so early," said his mom as the swung shut behind Ma.

"I've finished all the requirements," said Tim quickly. "I only need two more classes to graduate. My grades are still good."

His mom nodded distractedly. "Good. I'm glad, Tim. You've always done so well."

Tim blew on his tea. When his mom didn't say anything else, he said, "Ma said you had something to ask me?"

She nodded and took a breath. "We're going back to Gotham," she said in a sudden rush. "Your father and I. We'd like you to come with us."

Tim stared at her.

"Not - not until you're done with school, of course. I mean, we might go on ahead and make sure the house is ready, but we'd like you to join us there-"

Tim spoke without even thinking about it. "I can't."

His mom's brows drew together, sharp and worried. "Can't? But-"

"Ma and Pa need me," said Tim.

"I'm sure they can find someone else-"

"No." His voice was firm. "Ma and Pa _need_ me."

"We need you, too, Tim." His mom's voice was low, almost unrecognizable to his ears.

"No," he said again. "You don't. Maybe you want me. Ma and Pa _need_ me. They need _me_ , mom. Me."

She blinked hard, then gave up and fished a tissue from her purse, dabbing at her eyes angrily. "Why does it have to be you?" she said. "We can introduce you to the cream of Gotham society. Mr. Wayne has a party next month. You always begged us to take you with us when you were younger, and now that you're old enough..." she trailed off, obviously realizing it was hopeless as Tim's expression remained unchanged.

"If you'd told me this a few years ago, I would have been ecstatic. But you're too late."

"But why _you_ , Tim? Surely they can get someone else to help them with their farm work!"

He shook his head. "For one thing, they can't afford a full-time-"

"Why are you working for them for free? They're just _using_ you, Tim-!" She stopped at the expression on his face. He stood up abruptly, his hand tightening on the edge of the table until his fingers turned white.

"You should go now," he said, his voice very, very controlled. He stared down at the tablecloth bunching between his fingers.

"Tim, we care about you! We only want what's best for you-"

He looked up at her then, a strange expression on his face. "You want me to be happy?" She nodded eagerly. "Then leave me alone." He turned away.

"There must be _something_ we can do for you, Tim!" He hesitated, and she sensed it. Jumping up, she reached after him across the table, nearly upsetting her tea. "Something you need. Something you want?"

"There's a..." He stopped. "No. If I told you what I want, you'd try to use it as a bargaining chip. You might even try to keep me from getting it, out of spite."

"I...I wouldn't do that!" Her voice was breathless. "We didn't do that with your trust fund, did we?"

He sighed. "Mom, the fund was set up by grandma Jane and grandpa Jacob. You _couldn't_ have withheld the majority of it from me, no matter what dad thought. And you knew it." He turned around, facing her.

"What do you want from me?" she said, her voice shrill.

"I want you to leave me alone," he said. "Just as you always have."

She opened her mouth, but it was clear she didn't have an answer for that. Picking up her purse, she slung it over her shoulder and strode out the back door, letting it slam behind her.

Tim looked after her for a long moment. Then he picked up her untouched tea and took it to the sink to pour it down the drain.

* * *

They were just finishing up in the fields one evening, him and Pa, when a silent shadow passed over their heads. For a brief moment, Tim's heart jerked in his chest. But it was a big shadow, big and black and bat-shaped, almost invisible against the darkening sky. It descended over their fields and into their yard.

A familiar black and blue clad young man stepped out.

"Dick," said Pa, extending his hand. "Good to see you, son."

Tim stood still, studying Dick in the twilight. It felt...different.

Dick was handsome, that was inarguable. He had a beautiful face and an incredible body. He was friendly, and warm, and kind. Tim still respected him, still liked him. Still hoped that Dick would like _him_. And Tim still found him attractive.

But the terrible urgency, the sweet, aching hunger, the helpless, desperate sense of _want_...they were gone. Instead Tim felt a rising sense of embarrassment. He wondered how many of the files on Tim's computer Dick had seen.

He wondered how he could have been so obsessed with someone he'd hardly even _known_.

Dick was grinning as he took Pa's hand and said, "Good to see you, too, sir." Releasing him, he turned to Tim and gave him a slightly uncertain smile. "Hey."

Tim hoped the deepening shadows would hide his blush as he held out his own hand. "Hello again." Dick took it and shook it firmly before letting go.

"What brings you to Smallville?" said Pa, gesturing to Dick to follow as he stepped toward the house. "Just stopping by for a quick visit?"

"Unfortunately, no. Well, I am, but I'm also under orders," said Dick.

"Orders?" asked Pa.

"Yeah. I'm here to kidnap Tim for a little while. With your permission, of course."

Tim blinked. "Is it kidnapping if you're asking their permission first?" he said after a moment.

Dick chuckled. "Well, you'll notice I didn't ask _your_ permission."

"I see. And where are you kidnapping me to?"

"Gotham, of course," said Dick easily. He shot Tim an amused look. "Oracle wants to meet you."

"Oh," said Tim faintly.

~End of Year Three: Winter~


	11. Year Three: "New Growth", Spring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When he was nine years old, young Timothy Drake's family decided to move to a small town in Kansas...
> 
> _"A lot can change in a year."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 6491 words this chapter  
> Rating: PG this chapter (see warnings)  
> Notes: I must have re-written the last several scenes in this chapter ten times altogether. I really hope you guys like them. Love, as always, to iesika, whose honest criticism is invaluable, to the_protagonist, whose encouragement gives me that extra boost I need, and to batstalker, without whose cheerleading I might have given up on this one entirely. Also, note that there will be an epilogue of the same length as the chapters, which means that there will be three more parts to this story.

Tim wasn't sure just what he'd expected. Something underground, maybe. He gazed up at the clocktower, his stomach turning somersaults.

"Hey." Dick's hand on his shoulder made him jump. Dick seemed to constantly need to be moving, or talking, or touching. The entire trip here he'd chattered incessantly, ruffled Tim's hair, and stood on his hands on his seat after engaging the auto-pilot.

Tim had felt a mingled irritation and gratitude at Dick's antics, since they'd kept him from holding a train of thought for more than a few minutes at a time.

Now he was grateful for Dick's presence. "Is she. Is she mad at me?" he said, finally asking the question that had been uppermost in his mind since Dick had mentioned her name.

"Mad?" Dick seemed so genuinely surprised that Tim felt something in him loosen slightly. "I don't _think_ so," Dick went on. "She asked me to bring you here because she said you might not be willing to come, otherwise. When Oracle's mad, she...doesn't usually give people a choice."

Tim nodded, absorbing this. "Did she..." He stopped, not even knowing how to phrase his question. Finally he said bluntly, "Did she show you anything from my computer?"

Again, Dick looked surprised. "No. Why? Something about _me_ on there?"

Tim blushed hard. "I. Um. Used to collect articles about you."

"You were a _fan_?" asked Dick, obviously delighted.

Tim opened his mouth, then closed it again and looked at the floor as they stepped into the elevator. Dick pushed the button for the top floor, then pushed several of the other buttons in a quick pattern that Tim didn't catch all of. "Yeah," said Tim finally as the elevator started to rise. "I was a fan."

Dick laughed. It was a sound Tim was starting to become familiar with. "You'll have to tell me about it sometime." He ruffled Tim's hair again. Tim ducked away and tried to smooth the disorder as the elevator stopped and the doors slid open.

"Oracle?" called Dick.

"Come in," called a woman's voice. Tim took a breath and stepped out of the elevator.

Dick bounced out next to him. "Hey, B- Oracle," he said cheerfully. "I brought him for you."

"Thank you." Tim stood very still as the woman wheeled herself around to face them. Computers covered every available surface of the space. The air was dense and warm, the hum of fans and coolers a constant sound underlying everything. "So," she said, her eyes steady behind their glasses. "Tim Drake."

"Oracle," he said, inclining his head. He'd known she would be a woman, ever since Dick had first called her 'she' back at the farmhouse all those months ago. But somehow, he hadn't expected... _this_.

"That's one of my names," she said. "Do you know the others?"

It was a test. Tim took a breath and narrowed his eyes, calling to mind all the articles he'd ever saved. "You're in a wheelchair," he said slowly. She nodded, not taking her eyes off him. "It might be a condition you've had from birth..." He watched her face, but she didn't twitch, didn't give him a sign of whether or not he was right. "But based on the fact that you live in Gotham, I'm going to guess that it was as a result of an injury of some kind. You work closely with Nightwing and know him by name - and he knows you." He closed his eyes. "There was something...a tragedy. Years ago. Someone was shot in the spine. The daughter of the city's Commissioner Gordon. What was her name?" He shook his head and opened his eyes. "It was the Joker." Still, she didn't respond, but Dick whistled.

"He's _good_ ," he said.

The woman in the chair shot him a look that said very clearly, _Shut up, Dick._

"You said 'others'," Tim went on. "I...it's a longshot, but. You have red hair. There was hero that disappeared around the time that Gordon's daughter was shot. It would have been..." He closed his eyes again, linking things up in his memory, what he'd been doing at the time he read those articles. "Yes, within a few months. I can get a more accurate timeline by looking at the newspaper records, as well as your first name, but at a guess, I'd say that your other name was _Batgirl_."

Dick chuckled, but her eyes didn't leave Tim's face. "There were Batgirl sightings after the attack that left me crippled," she said.

"Then someone impersonated you, probably to keep others from making the same connection I did," said Tim promptly. Dick laughed again, but this time there was an edge to it. Tim blinked and whipped around to look at him. " _You_?"

Dick stuck his tongue out but didn't reply.

Suddenly the woman in the chair laughed. The sound was low and warm, very different from Dick's explosive bursts of mirth. "But you still don't remember my first name?"

Tim wracked his brain. "No," he said after a moment. "But I'm sure it wouldn't be difficult to find the first name of Commissioner Gordon's only daughter."

"Do you want a hint?" asked Dick irrepressibly. Tim and the woman both ignored him. She held out her hand.

"Barbara Gordon," she said seriously. Her hand was hard and calloused, Tim noted, her grip very strong. "It's nice to meet you, Timothy Drake."

"Likewise," said Tim, swallowing back the awe that swelled in him despite himself now that he wasn't concentrating on passing her test.

"Well!" said Dick. "I'll just leave you two geniuses alone, then!"

Barbara let go of Tim's hand and looked up at Dick. Something warm came into her eyes, though Tim thought she was trying not to show it. "Thank you, Dick."

"You owe me one." He bent down and kissed her on the cheek. She allowed it, though her smile was a trifle wry.

"Noted."

Dick straightened and turned to Tim. "Be good, kid. Just be glad Bruce isn't in town, or they'd be fighting over you." Tim stared at him, confused. Dick laughed again, and descended on him. Before Tim realized what was happening, Dick swept him into a close hug, his arms strong and warm as he pressed Tim to his chest. When he didn't let go right away, Tim awkwardly lifted his arms and wrapped them around Dick. For a brief moment, the old feeling rose in him, the sense of longing and sweet hunger. Then Dick let him go and smiled at him. "Babs will arrange for your flight back," he said to Tim, brushing Tim's bangs out of his eyes with a gentle touch.

"Where are you going?" Tim asked, biting his lip at how plaintive his voice sounded.

"Robin - Steph and Bruce are waiting for me, kid. We're taking a cruise around the world together, haven't you heard?" He flashed Tim a bright grin and turned to leave.

"Dick," called Oracle after him (except she was Barbara, Tim reminded himself). Dick looked back over his shoulder at her. "Happy birthday," she said.

"Thanks!" Dick's laughter trailed after him as he stepped into the elevator and echoed in Tim's ears for several long moments after the doors closed.

Ora- Barbara blew out a breath as though she'd been holding it. "Dick," she said dryly, as though the word were an explanation all by itself. There was fondness there, and exasperation. Tim understood completely.

"Dick," he said, nodding and turning back to meet her eyes. She smiled at him.

"Timothy Drake," she said, "What do you want to be when you grow up?"

"I don't know," he said.

"Ever thought about going into business, like your parents?" she asked. He shrugged. She didn't say anything.

He cleared his throat. "When I was younger, I believed I would take over Drake Industries someday, so my parents could retire. My parents certainly seemed to think I would."

"And now?" The question was quick, sharp. Tim took his time considering his answer.

"I'm not living with them, anymore. I don't have any interest in taking over their company." Once or twice he'd toyed with the idea of staying on the farm with Ma and Pa forever, but...that probably wasn't in the cards, now.

She was still looking at him.

"Did you have any suggestions?" he said.

"How closely have you been watching the news over the past few months?" she said.

"I used to watch it obsessively," he said. But...Since Conner..."

"I understand," she said. "After the attack on me, I couldn't stand to watch it, either. But you should see this, if you haven't." Turning, she typed a few things, her fingers flying over the keyboard even faster than Tim's did. In seconds a new window appeared, filling the screen. Lex Luthor smiled out at him from the monitor.

" _Ladies and gentlemen, earlier this week, a body was discovered in Gotham City. The body of this man-_ " with a flourish he pulled back a sheet. The camera swung down, zooming in on the face of the corpse lying there. " _-Lex Luthor!_ "

Tim gasped and frowned. The camera swung between the face of the corpse and the face of the man standing over it. A babel of voices filled the room, demanding explanations. Luthor held up his hands.

"The explanation is long, but the quick version is simply this: the man you see lying here _is_ me, but from another reality. A reality where Lex Luthor was a man of madness, not of business. A reality where Lex Luthor cared nothing for anything beyond his own desire for power. A reality where I was trapped while this man ruined my name, and then tried to bring about the end of the world. A reality I escaped mere moments before it ceased to exist."

Tim stared. Was it true? Was the mad man who had dosed himself with steroids and liquid kryptonite, the madman who had put a bounty on Superman's head and tried to kill them all - could he have been a fake, a doppelganger from another dimension? Something Luthor had said to Wonder Girl at the Tower echoed in his mind. _"When you have an evil doppelganger trying to tear you out of history, you learn not to stay in one place too long."_

It would explain so much. Luthor had saved Conner's life. He'd called him his *son*. And yet...he'd taken control of his body, forced him to hurt his friends, tormented him. Could it have been two different Luthors?

Except. It didn't work. Tim shook his head. "It's a lie," he said aloud.

"How do you know?" Barbara's question was abrupt again. This time Tim answered promptly.

"The commands he used to take control of Superboy had to have been encoded into his brain while Superboy was first being created, _years_ ago. Long before Luthor was even elected to the Presidency. Long before the 'doppelganger' supposedly 'replaced' him. And if a doppelganger did replace him, how would he have known the commands to take control of Superboy?" Tim shook his head. "It doesn't fit."

"The double might have captured Superboy and implanted the suggestions in his mind," said Barbara.

Tim shook his head. "Luthor had total control of Superboy. And Raven helped purge the programming from him...Conner told me about it. It was something implanted during his creation. It had to be. Besides, I was in contact with Conner a great deal before and during the time that Luthor went crazy. I don't think he ever disappeared long enough for an in-depth programming like that, and if he had, his disappearance would have been noticed - either by me and Ma and Pa, or by the Teen Titans."

Barbara smiled at him, a totally different expression from the way she'd looked at Dick. She didn't speak, but handed him a file. Tim took it and skimmed it. It was a medical report written by John Henry Irons, detailing his medical opinion that the colored contacts that had changed the false Luthor's eye color from blue to green had been inserted postmortem, and that the corpse's corneas showed none of the signs one would expect from a long-term contact lens wearer. Tim looked up.

"Why hasn't this report been released?"

"It was suppressed," said Barbara. "Discredited. The techniques used to examine the corneas and the lenses called into question - and when other medical professionals tried to verify the evidence, conflicting reports surfaced. Then the corpse - and the contacts - disappeared." Tim pressed his lips together tightly. Luthor had blamed his own psychological break on someone else and tried to cover up any evidence to the contrary.

"What do you want me to do?" he said. Oracle wouldn't have brought him here, he realized, unless she had a reason.

He was right. She handed him another folder. "LexCorp Summer Internship Opportunity", was stamped across the cover. Tim opened the folder and started to read.

* * *

"Hello, Timothy." Luthor stood and leaned across his desk to shake Tim's hand.

"Mr. Luthor," said Tim. "It's an honor to meet you, sir. When I applied for this, I never dreamed you would interview me _personally._ "

Luthor smiled. The man's charisma was incredible, Tim reflected. "Well, your test scores were off the charts, Timothy. But that's not the only reason why."

"No?" Tim looked at him, feigning curiosity.

Lex nodded, his smile becoming conspiratorial. "It's not every day a family member from a corporate rival shows up to intern at LexCorp."

Tim laughed. "I'd hardly call Drake Industries a 'rival' of LexCorp," said Tim easily. "It's not even in the same class."

"Is that why you applied for this, Mr. Drake? To learn how to make DI into a rival _worthy_ of LexCorp?" Luthor's smile remained, but there was a hard light in his eyes. "Surely there were more opportunities to intern a little...closer to home?"

Tim made a face. "Sir, I'm doing this to get _away_ from my parents." Sometimes the best way to lie was with as much of the truth as possible.

Luthor's eyebrows went up. "Oh? I see. So you don't get along with them?"

Tim didn't have to fake the tightening of his shoulders or the anger that made him press his lips together. "No."

"Why not?" The question was quick, reminding him of Barbara. He smiled wryly.

"For one thing, they disapprove of certain of my...lifestyle choices."

Luthor cocked his head a little. "You're going to have to do better than that."

Tim took a breath and released it, steeling himself. He'd never voluntarily said these words to anybody but his parents and Ma and Pa, even though others had known it.

"I'm gay," he said bluntly. "My parents don't like it. I'm no longer living with them, and have no intention of staying in contact with them."

The corners of Luthor's lips twitched. "I see," he said. "Well, you'll encounter no such...prejudices here at LexCorp, I assure you, Mr. Drake."

Tim inclined his head. "I know. I've read your equal opportunity hiring policies. And you extended insurance benefits to partners of gay employees. Instances of harassment of openly homosexual employees have been pursued promptly, the perpetrators appropriately punished. Additionally, all employees must take a sensitivity course upon hiring that includes-"

"Yes. I know the policies, Mr. Drake. I put most of them in place myself. I see no reason to waste talent such as yours for such a trivial reason as sexual preference, any more than I would refuse to hire a talented man of African-American extraction. And your parents don't feel the same? I was under the impression that they supported inclusive charities..."

Tim shifted, letting his discomfort show. "My parents...believe I'm not trying hard enough. They want to introduce me to 'nice girls' they know. They think I should..." he couldn't help blushing, " _try_ with a girl."

Luthor shook his head and smiled wryly. "'As long as it's not _my_ son,' eh? Typical. And what are your long-term plans, Mr. Drake?"

Tim took another deep breath before answering. "I've always admired you, sir. I want to work for LexCorp. I believe I have the capacity to become one of your most valued employees. If you hire me, sir...you won't regret it." The last was a lie, of course. Tim hoped very much to make Luthor regret hiring him, one day.

"Hmm. Well, we'll see, won't we?" said Luthor. Tim looked up at him quickly.

"Will we?" He couldn't keep the hopeful note out of his voice. Oracle had told him he would need to win this internship on his own merits. She couldn't risk 'helping' him in any way, if he was to win Luthor's trust.

"Mmm." The sound was non-committal. "Timothy...are you sure _this_ is the position you want?"

Tim frowned. "What do you mean, sir?"

"Have you ever heard of the Everyman program?"

Tim laughed. "Who _hasn't_ heard of it?" Even when he'd tried to avoid the news altogether, Tim had seen commercials for LexCorp's Everyman program.

Luthor steepled his fingers. "I think you'd be a good candidate."

Tim gawked at him in honest shock.

"You have the intelligence and the drive," Luthor said, "and more than that, the judgment. Yes, I think you would be an excellent candidate. If you expect...difficulties from your parents," he added delicately, "we provide the procedure to a certain number of eligible young people such as yourself free of charge, provided they qualify. You understand what it entails?"

"I...yes," Tim stammered, his brain working furiously. "You've found a way to unlock the metagene. You can give ordinary people s-superpowers..."

"It's a painless procedure," said Luthor, watching him narrowly.

Tim shook his head. "If I wanted to be a superhero, I wouldn't let a little pain stop me."

"If you wanted..." Luthor frowned.

"Sir," said Tim, meeting his eyes, "I grew up in Gotham, for the first half of my life, at least." Luthor's eyes flickered. "If there's any hero I wanted to be like, it's not Superman."

Luthor leaned back in his chair, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "A Batman fan, are you?"

Tim held up his hands, palms out. "He's a self-made man, Mr. Luthor. He's gotten where he is _entirely_ on his own merits, without...without _cheating_. Like you. I want to realize my own potential _without_ help."

"Hmm." Luthor lowered his hand from his chin and tapped his finger on the smooth top of his wooden desk, once, twice. "A very pretty speech, Mr. Drake, and clever for something you came up with on the spur of the moment." Tim stiffened. "Admit it, Timothy. You're squeamish, aren't you?"

Tim bit his lip. "I-" Everything in him wanted to burst out with a violent denial, but instead he hung his head as though chagrined. "...Yes," he said, his voice low. "I don't even like the idea of getting a _tattoo_. The idea of _genetic manipulation_ -" he shuddered.

And again, it was only half untrue.

Luthor had created Superboy, but he'd implanted and encoded his DNA to respond to Luthor's commands. There was no doubt in Tim's mind that the 'gift' Luthor was offering would have a similar 'catch'. Luthor wouldn't be able to resist the chance to control the son of a man who owned a potential rival corporation. When he considered the kind of power he'd be giving Luthor over him should he agree to his suggestion, he didn't have to fake his shudder.

"I thought so." Luthor's voice held a note of scorn. Tim felt his already hot cheeks flush more deeply and scowled miserably at the plush carpet. He'd blown his chance. How was he going to tell Barbara?

Silence reigned for a long, unhappy moment. Then Luthor said, "You don't belong in an internship position." Tim nodded, resigned.

"I understand-"

"I'm going to put you on the Everyman project."

Tim looked up, confused. "Sir? But-"

"You'll be working with the scientists," said Luthor briskly, "As well as the superheroes and heroines chosen for LexCorps' own super-team, _Infinity Inc_." Tim stared. "You're going to act as a liaison. Your youth will help you gain the trust of the young heroes, while your intelligence will earn the respect of the scientists."

This was too good to be true. "Your scientists have years more schooling and experience than I do," said Tim.

"Well then," said Luthor, his eyes challenging, "You'd better start reading, hadn't you? I'll expect you here two weeks after graduation."

"Yes, sir." The response was automatic.

Luthor rose and held out his hand again. He smiled at Tim, and Tim could feel the presence the man exuded. "Who knows? Perhaps you'll overcome your fear and decide to try the procedure yourself. Whether you do or not, however, I have no doubt that you'll make an excellent employee." Charm rolled off him in waves. Tim clasped his hand. Luthor's skin was smooth, his nails neatly manicured.

"I'll do my best, sir," he said.

"I can't ask for more than that." Luthor released his hand. "Mercy will show you the way out. Welcome to LexCorp, Mr. Drake."

"Thank you, Mr. Luthor."

* * *

He wasn't sure why he hadn't thought of it sooner. Bart had known Conner. Tim had met Bart - not as Kid Flash, but as _Bart_. And, maybe. Maybe Tim could...talk to him.

Maybe they could talk about Conner.

It wasn't that he couldn't talk to Ma and Pa. He could, of course. It was just that...Conner had been their grandson, and. It was different. And they'd accepted...their relationship. But. But Bart had been _enthusiastic_.

Tim wasn't even sure if Bart was still alive. The last time he'd seen him, Bart had been about to go after the fake Superboy. And then the world had almost ended, and...Tim hadn't seen or heard anything about Kid Flash since. Even when he finally went back and caught up on the news from the past few months, there was a curious silence surrounding the whereabouts of Kid Flash. Few outright speculated that he was *dead*. Everyone knew how Superboy had died tragically saving the world, but no one seemed to know what had happened to his fellow Teen Titan.

Eventually, Tim decided that there was only one way to find out the truth for himself. Which was why he was standing here, in front of a middle-class suburban home in Keystone. He took a deep breath, lifted a hand, and knocked.

An older man answered the door. "Mr. Garrick? My name's Tim Drake," he began.

The man looked at him curiously. "You're too late," he said.

"What?"

"You're collecting for the high school track team, right? I already gave some to another boy about half an hour ago." He started to close the door.

"No!" said Tim quickly, lifting a hand to stop him. "Please, sir, I'm not- I don't go to high school here. I. I'm trying to find Bart Allen."

The man froze with the door half-closed. "Sorry, son, Bart moved out. He doesn't live here anymore."

"Sir, I- I know he was- I know _who_ he was!" said Tim a little desperately.

The man stopped again, his eyes narrowing. For a long moment he just looked at Tim as Tim fought not to either blush or bolt. "Come in," he said at last.

A few minutes later, Tim found himself sitting on the Garricks' living room couch. An older woman came in and was introduced as, "My wife, Joan." She offered him tea or lemonade.

"No, thank you," said Tim, and looked at the floor, wondering how to begin.

Mr. Garrick sat down across from him. "So, how do you know Bart, son?"

_'Do', not 'did',_ thought Tim with relief. Bart wasn't dead.

"I was a friend of...I knew Conner Kent," said Tim slowly. Joan put a hand to her mouth, while Jay frowned. Tim nodded. "I knew his secret. I figured it out. We were..." He looked away from them. "We were friends. He was my best friend."

"Oh, I'm so sorry," said Joan impulsively.

Tim kept his eyes fixed away from them. Their sympathy was unbearable. "I met Bart at Conner's birthday last year," he went on quickly. "I...since I already knew about Conner, it wasn't hard to guess..."

"I understand," said Jay with a wry smile. "For all that he read several dictionaries, the word 'subtle' was never one in Bart's vocabulary."

Tim smiled a little in spite of himself. "I don't know where Bart is now, but. I was hoping maybe I could...I only met him once, but we. We hung out, and."

An odd silence hung in the air as Tim trailed off. He looked up to catch the two of them looking at each other uncomfortably. Finally Jay spoke. "He's not...he's not quite the young man you met last year, son."

"He's not? But, he's alive, right?"

"Oh, he's _alive_ ," said Jay. "He's just, well. He's not a kid anymore. The speed force aged him by several years. He's an adult, now."

Tim frowned. "An adult?"

"Yes. Living life at a different speed...it's something of an occupational hazard with speedsters." He smiled sadly. "He's an adult, and...he's no longer a speedster."

It took a moment for Tim to digest this. "So he's not a superhero anymore."

"No," said Jay, sounding reluctant. "He's working in a factory."

"Jay," Joan spoke up, covering his hand with hers. "I think we should give Tim his address." Another look passed between them, heavy with meaning, reminding him strongly of Ma and Pa. Finally she turned back to Tim. "He may not be the young man you remember, but I think it would do him good to talk to you. He blames himself heavily for Conner's death, you know. He tried to come back, to warn him that the other Superboy was returning, but," her lips quirked in a humorless acknowledgment of the irony of her next words, "he was too late."

Tim held her gaze until he couldn't any longer and dropped his eyes again. "It wasn't his fault," he said.

"No, it wasn't," said Jay.

* * *

_This was a mistake._ The thought rang loudly in Tim's head the next morning, but it was too late now. He hadn't even recognized the lanky man standing in the apartment doorway for moment. "B-Bart?"

The man yawned and ran a hand through his floppy brown hair. "Yeah," he said. He blinked down at Tim with amber eyes. "Do I know...you look familiar."

Tim swallowed. "Tim. Tim Drake. C-Conner's friend. We met at his birthday...?"

Bart blinked some more, then a light of recognition came into his eyes. "Tim! How are you doing, man?"

Tim gave him an uncertain smile. "So-so. How are you, Bart?"

Bart shrugged. "I'm okay." He yawned again. "Sorry, my roommate kept me out kinda late last night."

Tim nodded. "I stopped by yesterday evening, but you weren't home. I'm sorry if I woke you..."

"Nah, I gotta get up anyway. C'mon in." He held open the door and led the way into the apartment's kitchen. "Have a seat," he said as he started to rummage through the refrigerator. "You hungry?"

"No, thanks. I ate before I came."

Bart nodded and started to crack eggs into a pan. Tim counted half a dozen. Apparently Bart's eating habits hadn't changed much, even if he wasn't a superhero anymore.

After a minute or two, Bart said, "You at least want some juice, or something?"

"Sure," said Tim. "Some orange juice would be great, if you've got it."

"Oh, definitely." Bart shot him a smile. "Gotta keep my vitamin C level up, right?"

"Yeah." Tim watched as he crossed to the fridge again and poured a tall glass of juice. He wracked his brains for something to say.

Bart dropped some bread into the four-slice toaster and pushed down the lever. Both of them noticed the smell of burning eggs at the same moment. Tim jumped up, but Bart was closer. He grabbed for the pan, but he stumbled at the last moment and ended up gripping the handle too far forward.

"Ow!" He jumped back.

Tim rushed over. He flipped off the stove and dragged Bart to the sink, shoving his hand under the faucet and turning on the cold water.

"Crap, that hurts!" said Bart.

"I know, just hold it under the water, and-" Tim stopped, staring.

There was a swollen welt across Bart's hand, an angry red line from the middle of his first finger down across his thumb. But as Tim watched, the swelling started to go down. Tim's eyes widened as the skin changed color, bits peeling off into the sink under the force of the water. Within thirty seconds the skin where the welt had been was smooth and shiny. Within a minute the burn was gone as though it had never happened.

Tim turned off the water.

Bart's hand was shaking. Finally Tim looked up at him - and shock coursed through him for a second time that morning. Bart's eyes were panicked, so wide that Tim could see the whites. Small sparks and bits of lightning seemed to be dancing across his skin.

"Can't...control it," Bart whispered. "Can't."

Tim seized his hand. It was trembling, no, _vibrating_ , but Tim held on. "Bart," he said, and he tried to make his voice quiet and strong, like Pa's. "Bart, breathe. Concentrate on breathing, Bart. Like this." It was a long time since he'd taken those martial arts classes, but he'd never forgotten the, first, basic lessons. "Breathe." He put Bart's healed hand on his chest and breathed the way he'd been taught, slow and deep.

Gradually, the vibrations slowed, the sparks and lightning dying down. Bart slid down to the floor, his head in his hands. "Oh god," he whispered. "Oh god."

Tim hesitated, then sat down next to him, their backs to the sink. Not looking at him, Tim said, "You still have access to the Speed Force."

Bart nodded, his palms pressed to his eyes. "Not just access," he said softly. "I _am_ the Speed Force, now. It's *me*. It's _in_ me. And...I can't let it out. I can't control it. If I do, it'll tear me apart." Finally, he looked up. Tim could see him from the corner of his eye. "I want to get rid of it. I want a _normal life_."

Tim wasn't sure what to say to that, so he just nodded. He couldn't blame Bart. If Conner had been living a 'normal life', he'd still be _alive_.

Well, except that the universe would have been destroyed.

Bart squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head, then opened them again and smiled sheepishly. "I'm sorry, man. You didn't come here for this, right?"

Tim shrugged. "You're my. You're my friend, right?"

"Yeah," said Bart. He stood up and crossed to the stove, picking up a spatula. "I think these are mostly salvageable, at least. I'm _starving_."

_I'm not surprised_ , thought Tim, but he didn't say it aloud. He stayed quiet Bart scraped the eggs onto a plate and grabbed his toast.

Bart didn't speak, either, as he wolfed down his breakfast. It was strange, sitting in silence with him. Tim remembered that at Kon's birthday, Bart had hardly ever _stopped_ talking. The impulsive teenager he'd known seemed to bear little resemblance to this sad, frightened young man. He watched as Bart finished his food and took his plate to the sink.

"It wasn't your fault." The words were out of Tim's mouth before he knew what he was saying. Bart's back went stiff.

"That's what everyone told me," said Bart quietly, the words almost covered by the sound of the water. "I just...wish I could have been faster." There was an ironic, bitter tone to his voice that would have been alien coming from the old Bart's lips.

"What _happened_ to you, Bart?" Again, Tim spoke without thought.

Bart shrugged. "I don't even remember most of it. Just that...I was trying to warn him, warn Kon that the other Superboy was coming back." He turned off the water and dried his hands. "I didn't make it in time."

Tim looked away. "It wasn't your fault," he said again, but he wasn't sure if he believed it anymore.

Bart opened his mouth to reply, but another voice interrupted him, muffled through the wall. "Yo, Bart, you burning the house down or what?"

"Sorry, Griff!" Bart called back. "I just burned some eggs."

"Jeez, it stinks!" There was the creak of bedsprings. "Didja save me any?"

"There are a couple of eggs left," Bart called. "But you'll have to cook them yourself."

"I should probably go," said Tim quietly.

"Yeah. Uh, my roommate'll be out any minute," said Bart. "Come and visit again, Tim? I mean, if you're ever in town...it was good to see you."

Tim smiled at him, even though it felt fake and plastic on his face, like the way his parents' friends used to smile at him when they came to dinner. "You too, Bart. I will," he lied.

* * *

He'd only been back to his parents' house a handful of times. Tim let his eyes sweep his old room one last time. The movers had been quick and efficient. He didn't have much, but what he did have would go in storage. His old desk and ergonomic chair were gone. His telescope, packed away in its case, was on the truck. He'd already arranged to donate most of his old clothes. He'd outgrown them, and he'd need a new wardrobe if he was going to blend in at LexCorp.

All that was left was a couple of empty cardboard boxes he'd asked the movers to leave and a jumbled pile of things to sort though.

Tim picked up his scrapbook and glanced through it, feeling himself blush all over again. What a kid he'd been. He really should just burn the damn thing, but... He shrugged and stuck it in the bottom of the first box.

Conner had teased him about his collection. He'd been right, too. About everything.

Tim shoved aside the thought and picked up the next thing in the pile. It was the CD Conner had given him, the cover bright in its clear, plastic case. Tim put it in the other box.

He could have packed the EEE, he supposed. His parents wouldn't have noticed one way or the other. But he really had no desire to play it alone.

The camera went into the second box, even though he doubted he would need it in Metropolis. It wasn't as though he'd be going out of his way to photograph _Superman._ Not that Superman was around anymore.

Superman was powerless. Kid Flash was terrified of his own power, and just wanted a 'normal life'. Batman was on some sort of world cruise with his adopted children. No one seemed to know where Wonder Woman was. And Superboy...

Tim shook his head. He fished the camera out of the second box and put it in the first, the one destined for the storage unit. Who would he take pictures of in Metropolis? Booster Gold, who'd hired people to commit crimes just so he could look good stopping them?

Next was a shirt, a black shirt with a familiar symbol on it. Tim closed his eyes and buried his face in the fabric, but the scent was long gone. Tim closed his eyes and tossed the shirt into the second box anyway.

He frowned in puzzlement at the next item in the pile: a stack of cards with a rubber band around them. It took him a moment to remember that he'd grabbed them before fleeing the burning basement. _Luthor's old computer cards_.

He'd always meant to figure out what Luthor had stored on the old cards. He stared at the pile, thinking. Most of his free time was taken up with reading these days, as he desperately tried to get ready for his summer internship. This might be an interesting side project, though.

He put the cards into the second box.

* * *

"Hello, Tim." Tim stopped short in the doorway.

"Clark," he said, surprised. "I thought you weren't going to be here until later."

"I caught an earlier flight." There was something...off about Clark's tone. Tim took a step further into the kitchen. His eyes fell on the table, where Clark's hand rested on a stack of paperwork. _Ah._

"Care to explain?" said Clark mildly. He moved his hand, revealing the words on the top sheet. _LexCorp Everyman Program._

Tim had already talked to Ma and Pa about his plans for the summer. They hadn't liked it, and he hadn't gone into detail about his reasons for doing it, but...they trusted him.

He hadn't seen the red truck on the way in, which meant that Ma and Pa weren't here. Looking up, he met Clark's gaze evenly. "I'm interning at LexCorp this summer," he said, his own tone just as mild.

"You're really going to be working for _him_?"

Taking his time, Tim hung his backpack from its usual hook and picked up an apple from the fruit bowl. He took a bite and chewed thoughtfully before replying. "Yes."

"After what he did to Conner?"

Tim studied him. Clark's face was alight with righteous indignation. Beneath that, though, Clark looked exhausted. There were circles under his eyes, and his shoulders drooped. It must be hard, not having powers. Flying in airplanes when he was used to being able to go anywhere in the world in seconds.

"It's true," said Tim slowly, "that Lex controlled Conner's mind and forced him to attack his friends. But he also came to see him when he was sick. He helped provide the cure that saved his life when Conner's body was destroying itself."

Clark frowned. "He- I didn't know that."

"I know," said Tim. "You weren't there." He took another bite of his apple and added, "Actually, if it wasn't for Luthor, there never would have been a Superboy in the first place, would there?" The thought gave him pause. Luthor had _created_ Superboy. Tim wondered, suddenly, if he would try again.

If maybe he already had.

Clark was saying something. Tim blinked and looked at him. "What?"

"I said, anything good Luthor has done, he's done for himself. You can't _trust_ him, Tim!"

"I don't," Tim said automatically, a little surprised.

"Then why are you going to _work_ for him?"

Throwing away the apple core, Tim said distractedly, "It's really none of your business, Clark."

"Like hell it isn't! Tim...A year ago you burned down Luthor's house and swore to kill him! And now you're working for him?"

Tim looked at Clark, taking in his rumpled shirt and tired eyes. He smiled humorlessly and shrugged. "A lot can change in a year."

~End of Year Three: Spring~


	12. Year Three: "New Growth", Summer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When he was nine years old, young Timothy Drake's family decided to move to a small town in Kansas...
> 
>  _"He won't survive the night. Thanks to Lex_ fucking _Luthor and his obsession with superpowers!"_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 7629 words  
> Rating: R for violence  
> Notes: As usual, I want to thank iesika, the_protagonist, and batstalker. I know I've said chapters were hard before, but *this* one...this one was like passing a damn kidney stone. Seriously, the next two chapters will be easy in comparison. But every time I felt like giving up, I would get encouragement from one of the three people listed above, or a nice comment from one of you on one of my earlier chapters, and it would give me the motivation to keep going. Thank you, everyone. Thank you so much!  
> Warnings: Thoughts of suicide, people falling from great heights, violence.

Tim hated working out in the gym.

It was a very nice gym, of course. Available to all LexCorp Employees, twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. Just slide your employee ID card through the slot and you were admitted to a world of gleaming machines, treadmills, saunas and swimming pools.

Tim walked on the treadmill and remembered making the trek to school from the farm every day, puffs of dust rising around his feet when it was dry, mud squelching around his boots when it was wet.

He remembered carrying sacks of feed over his shoulder, hauling bales of hay or metal buckets filled with milk. Lifting weights in the gym accomplished nothing, as far as he could see, except to keep him in decent enough shape that when he went back to the farm, he'd still be able to lift sacks of feed and haul bales of hay.

Still, he had to admit that the time was good for one thing: thinking.

As he lost himself to the endless rhythm of the treadmill or the breathe/lift/lower/repeat cycles of the weights, he could think. It really wasn't so different from the endless, mindless chores of the farm, milking, weeding, feeding, harvesting. Neither took much brain power, once one understood what one was doing.

Luthor had thrown another temper tantrum today. The scientists were even more skittish than usual because of it. Luthor wanted super powers, and they couldn't give them to him. No matter how many times Luthor took the tests, the results always came back the same: he was not a good candidate for the very metagene therapy he'd helped invent.

Natasha stepped into the gym and looked around, then made a bee-line for him, interrupting his thoughts. He finished his second-to-last rep and carefully lowered the weights.

"Hey, Natasha," he said with a small smile.

She smiled back a bit distractedly. "Tim, how are you?" She glanced around for a moment.

Tim took his towel and carefully wiped down the machine. The last rep would keep until tomorrow. "Want to get some coffee?" he said.

Natasha shot him a grateful look and nodded, then frowned. "I can't go out without my security detail, though," she said. "I'll get mobbed."

"Come to my place," he suggested. "I'll meet you there."

She nodded again, her stiff shoulders relaxing. "Roger that." She rose into the air a little and zipped out the door.

Tim went back to the locker room and took a quick shower before throwing on his 'work clothes', just dark slacks and a button-down white shirt. He liked Natasha, though he hadn't expected to. She was hot-headed, of course, but she was also kind and generous, and she genuinely wanted to help people. And as the leader of LexCorp's own hand-picked, trademarked super-team, "Infinity, Inc.", she got plenty of chances to do just that.

Tim was worried about her.

He'd suspected from the start that the superpowers Luthor was handing out like candy to anyone who could afford them must have at least one string attached. The briefing Oracle had given him before he'd come had suggested what kind of string it would be.

_John Henry Irons (also known as 'Steel') believes that Luthor has full control of the activation of each Everyman's metagene at all times._

In other words, Luthor had turned on the metagene in thousands of citizens, giving them superpowers - and he could theoretically turn it off again any time he chose. For any of them. Including Natasha and the members of his own Infinity, Inc., if they did anything he didn't like.

_I'm walking a fine line,_ Tim thought as he stepped into the elevator. He couldn't risk alienating Natasha and the other members of Infinity, Inc., and he might, if he tried to warn them. And he definitely couldn't afford to offend the scientists, who'd been uncooperative from the start. Tim wasn't sure if it was because he was a kid or if there was some other reason, but the scientists were alternately cagey and demanding, willing enough to share basic data with him but giving him the run-around whenever he tried to access anything more in-depth.

And most of all, he couldn't do _anything_ that might upset Luthor. He'd seen the casual way in which Luthor dismissed even his most brilliant workers if they irritated him. Tim still didn't have access to the core systems, the data Oracle most needed him to collect.

Not to mention his 'side project'. The one that even Oracle didn't know about.

He pushed the thought aside as the elevator gave a discreet 'ding' and slid open. Natasha was there, waiting outside his door. She'd taken the roof entrance to the building, of course. Tim had made sure she had a key.

"Come on in," said Tim, unlocking the door. "I'll put some coffee on."

Natasha grinned at him and followed him into the kitchen. "What? You didn't pick up Sundollars on the way here?"

Tim snorted. "Five bucks for a cup of their swill? I can make better coffee with my eyes closed and both hands tied behind my back."

Natasha raised an eyebrow. "I'd like to see that," she said.

It was already an old joke between them. Actually, Tim didn't think Sundollars coffee was *that* bad, but the outrage and horror he'd expressed at the prices the first time he'd walked into the ubiquitous shop had amused Natasha and the other members of Infinity, Inc. immensely. Even Sierra, the resident 'Southern Belle', had teased him for being a 'hayseed'. Which was ironic, considering how much flack the kids back in Smallville had given him for his Gotham accent, years ago.

In contrast, the teasing from the I.I. crowd was more or less good-natured. Some of them were friendlier than others - in the case of Sierra, a little *too* friendly, until she'd figured out that Tim was Not Interested. Then she'd tried to set him up with one of her friends...He shook his head hard, forcing back the embarrassing memory as he poured the water into the coffeemaker. "How are you, Natasha? I haven't seen you for a few days."

"Yeah, we've been cleaning up a nest of Kobras," she said with a weak smile. His lips twitched in response. He flipped the coffeemaker's 'on' switch and got out two mugs.

"Yes, I've been watching you on the news. You'd think they'd have learned their lesson after you took them down a few months ago."

She shrugged. "Bad guys. If they were smart, they wouldn't be bad guys, right?"

Tim snorted. There were plenty of smart 'bad guys', and Lex Luthor was at the top of the list, as far as he was concerned. He couldn't exactly say that, though, so he just smirked and gave a half-shrug back. Remembering something, he went to the cupboard to pull out a tupperware container. "Want some cookies? Ma sent me some-"

"'Why do you ask questions to which you already know the ans-'" intoned Natasha, then, "-wait, are those your grandma's cookies? Like the ones she sent last time? Uh, YEAH! I mean, yes! Yes, _please!_ " She grinned at him.

Tim snorted again and didn't correct her - after all, he'd been the one to tell her the cookies were from his grandmother in the first place. It was just...easier than explaining the whole situation. He put three cookies on a plate and set it before her, then turned back to the fridge to get out the milk. The coffee dripped steadily into the pot, filling the kitchen with a pleasant aroma.

"So, other than taking down Kobras, anything new going on?" asked Tim as he poured a small glass of milk for each of them and set his own plate of cookies on the table.

Natasha frowned and swallowed, putting the half-finished cookie back down on her plate. She reached for her milk, but didn't drink it, tracing her fingers through the condensation on the side instead. Tim waited patiently, nibbling one of his own cookies to make it last. Finally she spoke. "I've been thinking about...Eliza a lot, lately."

Tim took a sip of his milk. Even the organic brand wasn't as good as the milk on the farm. Natasha had told him about Eliza, how the other girl had loved being a speedster, how she'd dreamed of leaving Infinity, Inc. and joining the Teen Titans. "She was a good friend," he said slowly.

Natasha nodded, but her brows drew together. " _More_ than a friend. I mean - not like that. Not that there's anything wrong with that! But we weren't like _that_ -"

"What were you like?" said Tim gently.

"She was...my teammate."

Tim nodded and put down his cookie. "It was the new Blockbuster, right?"

Natasha's fist flared with bright light for a moment, but she controlled herself, and the light faded. "Yeah," she said grimly. "He grabbed her and, and _broke_ her. That son of a _bitch_!"

Tim nodded again and rose to pour the coffee. His back to Natasha, he drew his phone out of his pocket and tapped a button on the side. The backlight flashed green. Good. No bugs in his apartment yet, or at least none that Oracle had detected.

Setting the mugs of coffee on the table, he said, "How did he catch her, anyway?"

Natasha stared at him. " _What?_ "

Tim looked at her curiously and sat back down. "She was a speedster, right? How did Blockbuster catch her? Did he trap her somehow? In cement or something?" He kept his tone calm, inquiring.

Natasha's gaze was suddenly distant. "No," she said, sounding disturbed. "No, he didn't trap her. He just...grabbed her."

It was Tim's turn to frown. "I've never heard that Blockbuster was known for his speed," he said carefully.

"He wasn't!" snapped Natasha. "He was huge and strong, but he was slow-" She stopped, biting her lip.

"Then how _did_ he catch her?"

Natasha met his eyes, her own wide and suddenly frightened. "I don't know," she said.

* * *

Tim sighed and leaned back in his chair, staring at the computer screen. The simple truth was, he needed a higher level of access than he had. He might be able to hack deeper into the system undetected, but if he got caught...

Well, it wasn't going to happen tonight. He rubbed his eyes and rolled his chair back, gathering up the files he'd been ostensibly working on entering into the database. He'd have to enter them that weekend, instead. They were just more busywork anyway, things the scientists had given him to keep him distracted and out of their hair. They were hiding something. Tim wasn't sure what, yet, but he was going to find out.

He stepped into the hallway across from the 'Infinity Suite' where most of the members of I.I. were staying. Luthor kept them in the lap of luxury, rewarding them with expensive gifts. Despite the excellent soundproofing in the building, Tim could hear the TV blaring away behind the closed door and shook his head. Super or not, most of that team were going to be half-deaf by the time they were forty.

If they survived that long.

He sighed and started down the hall again. The lab was further along, the door open a crack. As he passed it, Tim heard a sound from inside.

It was a sob. Tim stopped, blinking, and dithered for a moment before pushing open the door.

Dr. Dennis Laughlin, the head scientist on the _Everyman_ project sat there, his head in his hands. Tim bit his lip. He could step back, continue silently down the hallway, and pretend he'd never been here. Maybe the man's wife was sick, or his mother had died. It might have nothing to do with LexCorp.

But then again, it might.

"Dr. Laughlin?" Tim took another step forward, letting to door swing silently shut behind him. "Are you all right?"

The man looked up at Tim, his eyes filled with too much grief and fear to show embarrassment. "Oh, it's you, Tim. Sorry." He wiped ineffectually at his eyes.

Tim grabbed a couple of tissues from a box on a neighboring desk and handed them to him, then turned away to give the man a moment to compose himself. Laughlin's fair skin was blotched, his eyes red. "Did something happen?" asked Tim.

Laughlin blew his nose again. "Luis Dominero," he said.

Tim sucked in a breath. "The _Everyman_ candidate whose body rejected the procedure," he said. "He...didn't make it?"

Laughlin laughed horribly. "He did." His voice and demeanor were wild, defiant, those of a man at the end of his rope. "He _did_ make it."

"Oh," said Tim, confused. Was Laughlin crying with relief? He sounded anything but jubilant.

"He _did_ make it. But he won't. He won't survive the night. Thanks to Lex _fucking_ Luthor and his obsession with superpowers!"

Tim blinked. He surreptitiously checked his phone, tapping the button on the side. The backlight flashed green. Most of the rooms in LexCorp tower were bugged or had cameras, but the lab was an exception, probably because they interfered with the delicate electronic equipment. He pulled another chair over and sat down facing the scientist.

"That kid pulled through against all odds, and now Luthor wants him...wants him _killed_! To study the way his body spontaneously adapted to the process."

Despite himself, Tim gasped. He'd known Luthor was crazy, he reminded himself. He'd known the man had a total disregard for any life other than his own. He'd *known* that. "He thinks it will help him," he breathed aloud. "He thinks he can figure out a way to apply it to himself."

"Yeah," said Laughlin bitterly.

"You could quit," said Tim. "Blow the whistle."

"Oh, _sure_ ," said Laughlin sarcastically. "Dominero _might_ make it in that case, or he might suffer 'complications' a few weeks from now and die anyway. Either way, *I'll* be blackballed from ever working _anywhere_ again. Luthor will see to that. Besides, if I leave now, my replacement won't-" He cut himself off, sharp and short.

Tim thought hard. He stuck his hands into his pockets and held down another of the buttons on his cell phone for a moment before releasing it. Now the device would record everything they said, storing it for later transmission to Oracle. "What if you told Luthor he _did_ have the potential for superpowers?" he asked.

Laughlin went white. "Wh-what did you say?"

"Just until Dominero's out of danger. You can say that the procedure will be delayed, then tell him you were wrong after all..." He trailed off. Laughlin was pressing shaking hands to his face.

"No," said the man, his voice muffled. "No, I don't dare do that."

Tim narrowed his eyes. He took another quick glance at his phone, making sure the room was secure. Then he said with sudden certainty, "You've been lying to him. He _does_ have the metagene, doesn't he?"

"N-no!" Laughlin's denial was too quick, too loud. His hands fell away from his face and his eyes darted back and forth nervously. "Of course he doesn't! Why would I-"

"That's the question, isn't it?" Tim leaned forward. "Dr. Laughlin, I think I can help Luis Dominero."

Laughlin stared. " _You?_ What can you do?"

Tim gave him a thin smile. "You'd be surprised," he said. "Look, what have you got to lose? If I fail, you can deny all knowledge of my actions, and Dominero will be no worse off than he is now."

"And - and if you succeed?" Laughlin was looking at him with a sudden, disbelieving hope. "What then?"

"If I succeed, Dominero survives, and none of us get blamed," said Tim. "All I need from you is access into the core systems. If I get caught, you can say I stole your password."

"But-" Laughlin started, then stopped. Tim waited. The scientist was not a stupid man. Finally Laughlin gave a nod. Pulling a blank pad of yellow sticky notes out of his desk, he tossed them to Tim. Then he turned and moved his mouse, waking up his computer. The password input screen appeared. Tim grabbed a pen and carefully noted down each letter and number as Laughlin slowly entered his password. When he'd finished, Laughlin glanced at the paper and nodded silently. Standing up, he blew his nose again and tossed the tissue into the wastebasket under his desk. "For Dominero's sake," he said, "I certainly hope you're as good as you think you are," he said, then, pointedly leaving his computer on and logged in, he grabbed his briefcase and strode out of the lab, closing the door behind him.

Tim waited several long, silent moments before sliding his chair over to Laughlin's computer. "So do I," he muttered as he started to type.

* * *

As it happened, Tim was nearby when Dr. Laughlin reported nervously to Luthor the next day, "Sir, I'm afraid we lost Luis Dominero."

Luthor went very still. "...Lost?" he said coldly. "Explain yourself, Dennis."

"Just now, he - he broke his restraints and jumped out the window." He lifted a shaking hand and pointed. "There he is now!" As one they turned to see a young man, his expression half-crazy, half-ecstatic, floating wobbily past the glass at a distance of perhaps ten yards.

" _Mercy_ ," snapped Luthor. Mercy nodded and left the room. A moment later, to Tim's horror, the young man began to flail, and then to fall.

Tim couldn't make a sound. It was his fault. If he hadn't convinced Dominero that Luthor's people were going to kill him and that he had to escape...

They were on the thirtieth floor. Another image overlaid Dominero's in his head; Superboy, tumbling down in slow-motion-

A red, blue and white-clad figure swooped out of the clouds, catching the boy before he could hit the ground.

" _Damn him_ ," hissed Luthor from behind him.

Only Tim's paralysis stopped him from turning to stare at Luthor in incomprehension. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the tableau. The figure hovered for a moment, Luis cradled in his arms, then rose, up and up and up, past the windows, into the clouds hanging low in the sky.

" _Damn him_ ," whispered Luthor again, then turned on his heel and strode out of the office.

Tim took a deep, shuddering breath, then another. He was supposed to contact Oracle when Dominero was clear, he remembered vaguely, so that she could follow-through with the rest of the plan. After a minute he drew his phone from his pocket as though he were just checking the time, then quickly tapped the screen three times. Hopefully she was monitoring the situation and would know what to do next. Tim certainly had no idea how to contact Supernova, the newest and most mysterious superhero to appear in Metropolis.

Nor did he want to.

Someone would find out the masked hero's identity eventually, but it wouldn't be Tim. Soon, he told himself. In a few more months he'd be able to go home, back to the rhythms of the farm. Back to Ma and Pa.

Just as soon as he took down Luthor.

* * *

The skies were full of people. _...And for this special LexCorp-sponsored Fourth of July Fireworks show, the Everymen will have the best seats in the house!_ Tim flicked off the radio, rubbing his temples. With the access Laughlin had given him, he'd gotten deeper into the system - deep enough, in fact, to get the information Oracle wanted.

But not deep enough to get the information _he_ wanted.

_Are you doing it, Luthor? Are you trying again? After all, cloning Superman was a success *once*..._

He needed Luthor's trust. He _needed_ access to the innermost files. But how to get it?

It was getting late. Tim couldn't stay any longer without drawing attention, especially on a holiday. Laughlin was working _with_ him now, instead of against him - covering for him and providing him reasons for staying late if he needed them. Still, Tim didn't do it often if he could avoid it.

It wasn't that he _couldn't_ hack the systems. After all, he'd hacked the camera feed for Titans Tower. But that had taken many nights of steady, careful and dedicated hacking, and had been done remotely, from the security of his own room. To get into the deepest files in the LexCorp system would take days of work, and he couldn't do it during normal work hours, when he might be seen. Unless he could get his hands on a password, of course...

He headed down the stairs and to the front. As he was stepping outside, he heard Luthor snap to the security guard sitting at the front desk, "Roof access, Harris. No one follows."

Tim frowned. Chances were that Luthor was going up to watch the fireworks he'd sponsored. But there had been something in his voice...some kind of tightly leashed excitement or anger. Crossing the street, Tim hurried up to his own apartment, grabbed his camera, then went up to the roof of his own building.

The night was warm and clear, perfect for a fireworks show. Occasional splashes of color stood out against the sky. Natasha and the rest of Infinity, Inc. were only the spokespeople for the _Everyman_ project. Thousands of people had gotten the treatment already, probably hundreds of them in this very city. Not all of them could fly, of course, and not all of them were in the air, but enough of them could and were to still make quite a show.

"The Star-Spangled Banner" blared out of giant speakers set along the tops of LexCorp-owned buildings and others at street-level. Tim covered his ears until it was over. When it was finished, the first of the fireworks burst out over the bay, drawing 'oooh's and gasps from the crowds above and below.

It was a spectacular show. Certainly it beat anything Tim could remember seeing in Smallville _or_ Gotham. The finale was the best, with rocket after rocket bursting in an explosion of brightly-colored stars.

And at the height of the excitement, another sound rose, drowning out the sound of the the distant explosions. High-pitched screams rang out. As one, the _Everymen_ began to fall from the sky.

Tim grabbed for his phone and hit the panic button. "Oracle," he gasped. "Oracle, they're _falling-_ "

It was like when Dominero fell, like when _Superboy_ had fallen, except a hundred times worse. The screams filled the night.

_"Who's falling, Tim?"_

"The _Everymen_ ," he said. It was too late. Already they were crashing to the ground below. Oracle would send whoever she could, but it was too late...

Suddenly snapping out of his paralysis, he crouched behind the wall surrounding the roof and lifted his camera, zooming in on on the roof across from him. Lex Luthor came into focus. He had something black in his hand. As Tim watched, Supernova landed in front of him, obviously confronting him. Luthor spoke to him - Tim couldn't read lips, but he took picture after picture of Luthor's smug smile. Supernova took off again a moment later, flying in the direction of the chaos below.

_I could have been with them_ , Tim thought numbly. _If I'd taken Luthor up on his offer, I could have fallen, too._ It would have been so easy. One among hundreds. Not his fault. Tragic, but unavoidable.

But, he reminded himself, he wasn't eighteen yet. He couldn't die yet, not for at least another two weeks. If he died now, Ma and Pa would get nothing.

And he didn't want to die falling, he told himself. That would be a terrible way to die.

Besides, he would be _damned_ before he'd let Lex Luthor be responsible for _his_ death.

* * *

"Well, Mr. Drake," said Luthor from behind his imposing desk, "What is this 'matter of critical importance' you wanted to discuss with me?"

Tim squared his shoulders and took a breath. "Your scientists have been lying to you," he said.

Luthor's eyes narrowed. "What did you say?"

Meeting the other man's green eyes, Tim repeated, "Your scientists have been lying to you, Mr. Luthor. You have the metagene."

Something hungry and intense came into Luthor's expression. "Can you prove what you say, Mr. Drake?"

Silently, Tim pulled out a file labeled 'Alexander Luthor: Everyman Treatment Eligibility Results' and placed it on the desk in front of him. He watched Luthor's face as the man opened it and read the first page. When he put it down again, something shifted in his expression, behind his eyes. "Dennis lied," he said. His expression was distant.

"Yes," said Tim coolly. "He's been lying the whole time."

It hadn't been easy to talk Dr. Laughlin into letting him do things _his_ way. But when Tim had caught the man strapping several pounds of plastique to his chest, he'd known he had to do _something_.

_"I can't let him get his hands on superpowers!" Laughlin had been adamant and a little mad. "This is the only way! I'll blow up the lab and the results, take it all down with a single stroke!"_

_"Dr. Laughlin," Tim had replied cautiously, "I understand your concerns. But maybe the answer is to give Luthor enough rope."_

"Where is Dennis now?" said Luthor absently.

Tim shrugged. "He never came in yesterday. I was looking for a particular file I was supposed to be working on when I found...that." He nodded toward the folder in Luthor's hands.

Of course, Dr. Dennis Laughlin, ostensibly down with the flu, would be working for WayneTech from now on, under a new name and identity. Tim hoped that Lex would be too preoccupied with other matters to worry about his whereabouts.

Suddenly Luthor focused on him, his gaze narrowing in on Tim like a laser. "Mr. Drake," he said.

"Yes, Mr. Luthor?"

"I won't forget this." The man's smile was warm, but his eyes were like a shark's.

Tim didn't shudder. He smiled back. "Thank you, sir."

* * *

_"Enough rope? What are you talking about?"_

_"You know the expression, Dr. Laughlin. 'Give a man enough rope to hang himself'? If you blow yourself and your data up, it's not going to stop Luthor. All it will do is let him know that you had something to hide. He'll hire new people, people that might not be as scrupulous as you. Sooner or later, he *will* get his hands on superpowers."_

_Laughlin stared at Tim, his brow wet with sweat. "But then...what can we do?"_

_Tim looked at the top file on the stack and narrowed his eyes._

_"We can give him exactly what he wants. And sooner, rather than later."_

The hum of machines filled the room above him, coming to Tim as nothing more than a quiet vibration through the ceiling. Every technician, scientist and lackey was either employed in the all-important task of giving Lex Luthor the superpowers he craved, or had left the building, sent home early.

This was his chance to find out what he needed to know. Maybe his last chance.

As the vibration increased, Tim typed frantically. That morning, Luthor had finally given him full access to the system. Of course, if Tim's plan worked, Luthor would either be dead or in jail very soon. That might make what Tim was doing moot. Still, even with its head cut off, the Hydra would survive, and LexCorp had come back multiple times after its leader had fallen in disgrace. The projects Luthor had put in motion might well continue without his direct management.

Soon, Tim was inside the system, and it didn't take him long to find the data he was searching for. In moments he'd copied it. It took longer to set up a backdoor so that he could get back in even if he lost access, but it was imperative that he be able to do so.

The humming above him increased again, then began to die down. Tim knew the sound. He'd heard it day in, day out. It was the sound of Luthor's machines giving someone superpowers. Even the terrible events of the Fourth of July hadn't stopped people from lining up, begging Luthor to make them stronger, faster, better.

Natasha and the other members of Infinity, Inc. hadn't had the 'genetic flaw' that supposedly caused a large percentage of the _Everymen_ to 'reject' their enhancements. The day after the horrific disaster many of Luthor's pet super-team had shown up on TV talk shows and news interviews, explaining that new treatments were being instituted to 'fix' the problem.

Tim shook his head. Even if Luthor's tale had been true, it was wildly unlikely that so many peoples' powers would fail _simultaneously_. Steel had been right. The flaw was built-in, deliberate...and completely within Luthor's control to activate at any moment.

Tim fingered the device in his pocket. It was small, the size of a car alarm keychain. Then he turned off the computer and stepped out of the lab, locking the door behind him, and started to climb the stairs to the next floor.

A scene of chaos met his eyes. Luthor was standing in the hallway, laughing. Natasha was blasting him with her energy bolts...or trying to. They washed harmlessly over Luthor's skin.

_What's Natasha doing here? She's not part of the plan!_ Forgetting the device in his pocket, Tim stood, frozen with horror, as Luthor yelled, "Tell me, Natasha, did you _earn_ the powers I gave you? The powers that I'm about to take _away?_ " The man lunged forward, wrapping one big hand around the top of Natasha's head. Images of Blockbuster rose before Tim's eyes. He'd reviewed the tapes of Eliza's death, every version he could get his hands on. He'd seen the way the monster had broken her.

_He's going to kill her!_ Tim leaped at Luthor, grabbing at his arm. "Leave her alone!" he yelled.

"Tim?" gasped Natasha.

Luthor chuckled as he lifted his arm and swung it hard, flinging Tim off as easily as a man might flick away a bug.

"Tim!" Natasha's scream was the last thing he heard before his head crashed against the wall behind him and everything went black.

* * *

_Pain._ Why did everything _hurt_ so much? Tim tried to swallow. His eyes seemed glued shut. The ground was hard beneath him, and he wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep, except that the pain wouldn't let him.

His mouth was dry. He needed water. He'd just get some water, then he'd go back to sleep. Maybe Ma could get him some water. He opened his mouth to call for her, but instead he began to cough. Was he sick? Was that why everything hurt so much? But it didn't feel like a sick cough, it felt like a 'too much dust in the air' cough.

There was a loud noise above him. Tim frowned and forced his eyes open.

He wasn't at home. What had happened? Had there been an accident? An explosion?

Tim sat up and breathed hard as nausea threatened to overcome him. Slowly, he stood up and, leaning hard on the wall, made his way down the hallway to the bathroom.

He looked terrible in the mirror, his face pale, shirt torn and dirty. Tim leaned over the sink and scooped blessedly cool water into his mouth, then splashed some onto his face. Another loud sound rocked the floor above him. His thirst slaked, Tim closed his eyes and tried to remember, but all that came up was a blank. Frustrated, he put his hand to his head, and was surprised to find something tacky in his hair. He pulled his hand away.

There was blood on it. Mostly-dry blood.

He probably had a concussion. How long *had* he been out? He reached for his phone, and encountered something else in his pocket. A small device, about the size of a car alarm keychain-

Memory exploded into his consciousness.

"Oh _crap_ ," he breathed, staring wide-eyed at the mirror. He had to get to Luthor _now_. Why the hell had he tried to grab the man? _Idiot. Idiot!_ Turning, Tim burst through the bathroom door and ran for the stairs. Halfway there a wave of dizziness threatened to overcome him. He squeezed his eyes shut and breathed deep and hard, his heart pounding in his chest.

Natasha. Natasha was probably _dead_ and it was all his fault!

Stumbling, Tim forced himself up the stairs as the building shook and rocked. Halfway there he nearly threw up the water he'd drunk so desperately, but he managed to keep it down.

Finally at the top, he pushed open the door cautiously.

" _Luthor!_ " The bellowing voice was filled with fury. *CRASH!*

More crashes, along with voices yelling at each other incoherently. Tim heard Luthor, triumph ringing through every word, scream "Lie down and _die_ , man!"

If anyone else died, it would be Tim's fault. He pushed open the door to the roof.

Natasha was there. She was _alive_. Relief flooded through Tim. He opened his mouth to call to her, but she was bending over something and saying, "This is for _Infinity, Inc._ , Lex! Making an 'off' switch was your big mistake!" And, lifting something into the air, she threw a crackling burst of energy at Luthor.

_It won't work._ Natasha was right - a pulse at the right wavelength could disrupt the _Everyman_ gene...for anyone else.

_"But Luthor won't build the same switch into his own genes, surely," Dennis had said._

_"No," Tim had agreed. "He won't. But we can put in our own."_

Still standing in the doorway, unnoticed by any of the other people on the roof, Tim pulled the device from his pocket and pointed it at Luthor at the same moment that Natasha's energy pulse blasted into the man. Tim held down the button that would fire a blast of radiation; radiation that would break down Luthor's newly-activated Everyman gene. Permanently.

Luthor screamed and fell to the ground. "No! How-? What have you done to me?"

Tim put the device back in his pocket and collapsed to his knees. He could see the situation, now. Luthor was fighting Steel - Dr. John Henry Irons, who also happened to be Natasha's uncle. Natasha looked terrible; with two black eyes and a large bruise on her head...but she was alive. She was alive and Luthor was no longer a danger to the world, thanks to the device Tim had built with the help of Dr. Laughlin and the other scientists, the ones who'd stayed behind and pretended loyalty to Luthor.

Natasha finally caught sight of him. "Tim!" she cried. Steel's hammer - that was what she'd used to send the energy pulse against Luthor - fell from her hands with a loud CLANG. "Oh my God, you're alive!"

Luthor had revealed himself - again - as the monster he was. Tim smiled slightly as he thought of the charges the man would face: assault, probably kidnapping, since he'd clearly taken Natasha hostage and used her to lure Steel into fighting him. Maybe they'd even be able to prove that he'd murdered all those _Everymen_ deliberately.

The smile still on his lips, Tim gave in to the blackness once again.

* * *

Staying in the hospital palled quickly, despite the fact that Natasha was in the next bed over. Fortunately, Tim had gotten off remarkably lightly. He did have a concussion, but other than that and a very large bruise covering his back, he was unharmed. He hadn't even broken anything...unlike Natasha, who had two fractured ribs. So, after several days of observation, they released Tim.

He was glad he'd managed to convince Ma and Pa not to come out when he'd spoken to them on the phone. There was no point in having them fly all the way to Metropolis when he was fine.

His parents had been easier to convince, when they'd called from Italy.

"Lucky," grumbled Natasha. "Wish I were getting out of this place."

Tim flushed. He still blamed himself for her injuries. If he'd only used the device sooner, instead of jumping in and trying to grab Luthor like a big _idiot_ , she wouldn't have been hurt nearly as badly (and neither would he, for that matter).

Taking a breath, he let the guilt subside. Everything had come out all right in the end. They had a far stronger case against Luthor than they would have had if he'd disabled the man's powers sooner. Natasha was healing up well, and her uncle had been delighted when she told him that she wanted to use her enforced bedrest to catch up on her schoolwork. Tim had offered to get her the newest handheld game system to pass the time, the DSP, but she'd just smiled and shook her head.

"Thanks, Tim, but I don't need it." She'd held up her book, a copy of _The Hound of the Baskervilles_. "I'm actually really enjoying this."

Tim had snorted. "I never got to read Sherlock Holmes in *my* English class."

She'd just grinned. "Yeah, well, that's what you get for going to school in Hicksville, right?"

Now he smiled at her and pointed to the stack of books and papers next to her bed. "Hey, you've still got a lot to catch up on, right?"

"Yeah," she admitted. "But I wish I didn't have to do it while eating hospital food!"

Tim chuckled and conceded the point. "I'll send you some of my grandma's cookies," he promised.

Her face lit up. "Really? I'm gonna hold you to that!"

"Cross my heart," he said. She reached out a hand to him, and he took it and squeezed.

"I'd give you a hug if I could," she said.

"I know," he said. "It's probably just as well, though. I've never been very good at hugs." _Well, except with Conner. I guess practice made perfect in that case._

A few minutes later he stepped out into the Metropolis morning sunshine, free at last. "Hey," said a familiar voice, and he spun around to find Dick Grayson standing next to him at the bottom of the steps.

"D-Dick?" he stammered.

Dick laughed and hugged him, a gesture Tim returned awkwardly. "Happy birthday," said Dick, and Tim blinked again and blushed.

"Uh, thanks."

Dick released him and beamed. Tim watched him, off-balance and wary. "We have a surprise for you," said Dick.

"A surprise...? ...'We'?"

Dick turned and nodded to a group of people standing further down the sidewalk. Tim recognized the blonde-haired girl as Stephanie Brown-Wayne. Then the tall, broad-shouldered man next to her turned, the sunlight catching his profile, and Tim's eyes widened.

"Yeah, 'we'," said Dick, sparkling with amusement.

"...Oh." Tim couldn't really think of anything else to say as the tall man strode over, a bright, slightly-vacant look on his face, and took Tim's hand.

"So this is Timothy," said the man, shaking his hand. For a moment his eyes sharpened as they rested on Tim's face, but his tone remained light as he said, "I've heard a _lot_ about you!"

"Likewise," replied Tim faintly, "Mr. Wayne."

* * *

"So, this is the Batcave," said Steph, as she'd asked him to call her. "This is where we do all our _secret Bat-things_ -" She broke off as Tim caught sight of a glass case standing off to one side and slowly made his way over to it. Inside the illuminated glass tube hung a Robin uniform. Beneath it was a plaque.

_Jason Todd_  
_A good soldier._

Tim drew a hard breath. He'd been right. He'd hoped that maybe he'd missed something, that-

A motorcycle roared into the cave, the sound echoing off the walls and sending the Bats into a squeaking frenzy above. "Bruce!" called a man's voice as the engine died down. "Steph!"

"Jason!" Steph tore across the cave and threw herself into the man's arms. "You're back!"

The man gave her a quick, hard kiss before breaking off and saying, "Yeah, I'm back, babe. Need to talk to Bruce. Got some info. Where the fuck is-" He stopped, catching sight of Tim standing there, staring. "Who the fuck is that?"

"Oh." Steph let go of him and turned. "This is Tim Drake. He figured out our identities and took down Lex Luthor the other day."

"No kidding?" Jason raised an eyebrow and absently smacked her butt, making her squeal and jump a little.

"Asshole," she said without rancor. "Tim, this is Jason Todd."

"B-but," Tim finally managed to say. He glanced at The Case and back to Jason again. "I thought..."

Jason scowled at The Case. "Yeah...Let's just say that the rumors of my death were greatly exaggerated."

"So...you didn't die? The articles I read lead me to believe-"

Jason interrupted him with a snort. "Don't believe everything you read, kid."

"Oh," said Tim again. He felt a smile spread across his face and blinked hard. "I'm...I'm glad. I'm really glad."

Jason scowled harder and looked away. "Yeah," he said.

A hand fell on Tim's shoulder, making him jump. "I'm glad, too," said Bruce quietly.

Jason's eyes narrowed as he looked at Bruce. "Whatever," he said, voice hostile.

For a moment silence fell, tension singing in the damp air of the cave. Then Steph did something that made Jason yelp, breaking it. "You were saying something about 'info'?" she asked sweetly.

He blew out a breath and glared at her, but he said, "Yeah. Bruce, I got some shit for you. If you want it."

"Of course, Jason."

Tim watched as the two of them went over to the computer, Jason pulling a flash drive out of the pocket of his leather jacket and plugging it in as he spoke in lowered tones.

"He wasn't dead after all," said Tim softly.

He wasn't even aware that he'd spoken aloud until Steph said from beside him, making him jump, "I know, it's a lot to take in."

"Just a little," he admitted, giving her a rueful smile, which she returned unreservedly. For a moment she reminded him of Dick.

"Alfred made you a cake. I dunno who told him it was your birthday, but Alfred kinda knows everything, so. Why don't we leave them to hash things out," she rolled her eyes and jerked her head towards where Jason and Bruce were still arguing next to the computer, Jason gesticulating wildly while Bruce frowned and spoke in clipped monosyllables, "and go upstairs?" She grinned a little slyly. "Dick's up there. We can come back down later."

"Oh," he said, taking one last glance around. "Sure, okay."

She led the way up the steps, pausing only to call down, "Jason, don't you fucking dare take my bike without asking again!"

"Whatever, babe!" he called back, grinning up at her.

"I mean it!" she shouted, but she was grinning, too.

Later, after some very good cake (but not as good as Ma's, Tim thought loyally), Bruce came up the stairs to join them.

"Did Jason take my bike?" asked Steph. Bruce shrugged. "Damn it!" she swore, but she didn't, actually, sound that mad.

Bruce put his hands in his pockets and pinned Tim with a Look. "Stephanie," he said, and she stopped and gave him her full attention.

"Yeah, bossdad?"

"What do you think?" he said, still looking at Tim.

She turned to look at him, too, her expression serious. "I think he could work."

Bruce nodded. Tim looked between them. "What?" he said.

"You guys, you're freaking him out," said Dick, coming in from a side-door. "Just tell him already."

A smile tugged at the corner of Bruce's lips. "Stephanie is going away to school the month after next," he said. "She's decided to take a break from her...nighttime activities."

"Not permanently!" Steph broke in hastily.

"She also," Bruce continued, "Has brought up the idea of creating a new identity for herself."

Tim blinked. "But...you're Robin!"

Steph shrugged and waved a hand at Dick. "He used to be Robin, too. Now he's Nightwing. I think it's time I do something like that."

"But-"

"That leaves," said Bruce, "The position open." They all looked at Tim, and he couldn't imagine why.

"...and?" he said after a moment.

Dick laughed. "They want to know if you're interested in applying," he said.

He stared at them, stunned. "... _Me?_ "

"I read Oracle's report of your time at LexCorp," said Bruce. "You acted throughout with a great deal of intelligence and insight."

Tim blushed. "But...what about Jason?"

All of them frowned. "Jason - ah - refused the position," said Bruce.

Tim looked from one to the other of them and thought hard. He could stay with them, get trained. Work with Dick Grayson, with Bruce Wayne, with Stephanie Brown-Wayne. He could be one of them.

"Thank you," he found himself saying, "But I don't think I'm the right candidate for the position."

Dick looked surprised, but Steph smiled sadly. "Told you," she said.

Bruce was impassive. "Why not?" he asked.

"Besides the fact that I'm too old - I'm eighteen today, you know - I..." he stopped and tried to figure out how to say it. "I have somewhere else to be," he said finally. Bruce nodded. Tim smiled shyly at them. "I'm honored that you asked me, though. I hope you find a good, er, applicant."

Dick shrugged. "Oh, someone will turn up, sooner or later," he said cheerfully.

Bruce fixed Tim with another Look. "What will you do now?"

Tim took a slow breath and released it. "I'm going home," he said.

~End of Year Three: Summer~


	13. Year Three: "New Growth", Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When he was nine years old, young Timothy Drake's family decided to move to a small town in Kansas...
> 
> _"If you hadn't been here...if you hadn't been here..."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 6831 words  
> Rating: R  
> Notes: I really hope this chapter lives up to everyone's expectations! Thanks, as always, to iesika, batstalker, and the_protagonist. Thanks also to all the lovely fanartists who have given me permission to post their work as part of the story! Almost done, folks!

Tim hefted another fence piece out of the back of his truck and into place, watching Pa out of the corner of his eye.

Pa was watching the sky.

Both he and Ma had been, off and on, for the last several days. Tim couldn't really blame them. He _could_ , however, blame Clark for worrying them. The words rose to his lips, and were out before he could stop them. "I wish he hadn't told you. He _shouldn't_ have told you." Tim regretted saying it almost immediately, but there was no way to unsay it.

Pa looked down at him and wiped his brow. "You mean Clark? Why not, Tim?"

Tim frowned down at the fence as he worked. Finally he said, "He shouldn't have worried you. Both of you. Ever since he told you he was going to try to track down Braniac-" Pa's hand fell on his shoulder, silencing him.

"We're his parents, Tim. We worry about him no matter _what_ he's doing. When he didn't have his powers this past year, we worried that he'd get into a car accident, or get shot, or get sick. Now that he's back to normal...well, normal for him...we still worry that he'll meet up with something bigger than he can handle. It's our _right_ to worry about him. Just like we worried about you, when you went to Metropolis." He stopped and shook his head. "I still wish we could have come and visited you in the hospital."

"I _told_ you, Pa! It would have been silly. By the time you could have gotten a ticket and flown out there, I was getting ready to check out."

Pa shrugged and frowned. "Don't change the fact that we were worried about you, son. And whether he'd explained to us what he was getting into or not, we'd be worried about Clark now."

"I guess," admitted Tim grudgingly.

Less than a month after his powers had returned, Clark had come to dinner one night and told them that he'd encountered one of Braniac's probes - one of many that had been hunting for Superman. "The sunstone crystals in the Fortress have reverse-engineered the probe's guidance system," he'd said. "It's _my_ turn to try and find _Braniac_."

Ma and Pa had not been happy about that. Tim could hardly blame them - it was one thing for Clark to fight threats as they appeared, but it was quite another for him to seek out danger deliberately.

"Tim," said Pa, shaking him out of his reverie. "Clark is my _son_. I'd far rather he talk to me than not."

That gave Tim pause. He wanted to _protect_ Ma and Pa, to shield them from having to worry about him, and he'd always thought that Clark should feel the same way. But, maybe in shielding them, he was also...shutting them out?

Maybe part of loving people was *letting* them worry about you.

He certainly worried about _them_.

In fact...He glanced at Pa, not liking the color of his face. "What say we take a break and get a drink?" he suggested. "I could use some water."

Pa nodded and mopped his brow again, squinting at the sky. "Sounds good to me," he replied, then stiffened. Tim turned in time to see it as well, a streak of red light high above them, heading west.

Neither of them spoke as they headed up to the house, leaving Tim's truck parked down by the fence. Ma met them with a trowel in her hand. "Did you boys see that?" she said. "Up in the sky? What was that?"

"I'm not sure, Martha," said Jonathon. "But whatever it was, it was heading toward the sun."

Tim blinked and shivered as a sudden cold breeze buffeted him and sent heavy gray clouds skidding across the sky. In a few moments they'd blotted out the sun. Suddenly everything was darker, colder.

"Winds are picking up," said Pa, "and that line of light in the sky..." It was almost as though he were talking to himself, for all his voice was raised enough to be heard. Then he turned to Ma. "You get the news on, Martha. Tim, let's get the cows back in the barn. There's a storm brewing...and I've got a feeling Clark is in the center of it."

Tim was already moving before Pa had finished speaking. The animals were restive, nervous, because of the weather or because they were picking up on the humans' nervousness, Tim didn't know. One by one he and Pa herded them into the shelter of the barn. Tim pulled his flannel shirt tighter around his shoulders against the sudden chill in the air. When they were finished, Tim called, "You go make sure Ma's all right, I'll get the barn doors shut." Pa nodded and turned toward the house.

"Jonathan," came Ma's voice, sounding thin, "something's wrong with Metropolis!"

"Martha? _In the sky!_ " Tim had never heard that note in Pa's voice before. He whirled around from where he was closing up the barn to see Pa dashing across the yard toward Ma. As he watched in horror, a silver missile swooped toward where she was standing. "NO!" cried Pa, and leaped, knocking her down, as the silver thing exploded with a wave of heat and sound that left Tim's ears ringing.

_No._

Tim blinked his eyes, still blinded by the flash, and blundered forward.

_No!_

They'd been so close to the blast. The garden shed was on fire, he realized vaguely, flames licking at the wooden walls. Tim stumbled, nearly tripped, but kept going. He could barely see, barely hear, but they had to be all right...they _had_ to be...

_NO! Not again! Not again!_

And then he saw them, Pa's arm around Ma's shoulders, cradling her against him protectively. They helped each other up, and he pulled her against him. Faintly through the hiss in his ears, Tim heard him speak. "Everything's going to be all right, Martha. Everything's going to be all right now."

And then he clutched his left arm, his face contorting in pain, and collapsed.

There was a moment when the whole world seemed to hold its breath. " _Clark!_ " Ma's scream cut through the ringing in his ears as Tim started running again, not stopping until he was at Pa's side. Tugging him out of Ma's arms, he lay him down on his back and felt for a pulse. " _CLARK!_ " yelled Ma again. " **CLARK!** "

_Where is he?_

Tim didn't have time to worry about it. He'd played this scene out hundreds of times in his nightmares, ever since Pa's first heart attack all those years ago. With the hand not searching for Pa's pulse, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and hit the panic button. "Oracle," he said, "I'm going to need an emergency teleport."

There was no answering voice, no reassuring sound at all. Tim glanced at the phone. The screen was black. He tapped the power button, but there was no response. Out of battery?

Oh. Oh, no.

_EMP._ The bomb, or whatever it had been, must have released a pulse of electromagnetic radiation when it exploded, frying nearby electronics. Tim wanted to squeeze his eyes shut, but there was no time. Instead he ripped Pa's shirt open. There were too many things he needed to have, needed to _do_. "Ma," he said sharply. "Call 911. Not the phone in the kitchen-" that was the new one, the one he'd given them, the portable. Electronic. But Ma kept an old corded rotary phone in the front room, said she liked the way it sounded when it rang. Maybe it was old-fashioned enough not to have been affected. Maybe it was far away enough to have escaped the blast. "Use the phone in the parlor. Tell them it's a medical emergency and we need an ambulance here _now!_ " As Tim talked he worked, tilting Pa's head back gently and watching for any sign of breath. When he'd finished giving instructions, he leaned down and opened Pa's mouth, making a seal around his lips and blowing, watching Pa's chest rise and fall twice.

Then he folded his hands together and began the compressions. Pumping Pa's heart for him. When Ma got back, he'd send her to his truck-

" _Damn!_ " Tim gritted his teeth as he realized that they'd left the truck down by the roadside, the bed full of pieces they'd been using to mend the fence. Tim _needed_ the truck, or at least what was _in_ it, but he _couldn't_ leave Pa, and it would take Ma too long to get down there to get it, once she got back from the house. And even if they got an ambulance out here, it would take at *least* ten or fifteen minutes to arrive. Too long. It would be too late. "Damn it, Clark! Where are you?" If only Conner were here. If only-

Tim gasped and sucked in air, but instead of leaning over and breathing it into Pa's mouth again, he yelled as loud as he could, " _KRYPTO! KRYPTO!_ " He counted in his head, felt for Pa's pulse again. " _KRYPTO!_ "

A white and scarlet streak came toward him from the direction of the fields. For a moment, Tim hesitated. Could Krypto get Pa to a hospital in time? He looked up at the dog. Krypto was smart - but Tim didn't know how to explain to him what he wanted, or where to take Pa, or the urgency of the situation. And there was really no way for Krypto to easily carry Pa. So instead, Tim used one hand and pointed to the distant red splotch on the side of the road. "Krypto! Get my truck! My truck!" he said, sharply, with every ounce of command he could muster, " _Fetch!_ "

He didn't watch to see if Krypto obeyed, instead turning his entire focus back to counting, breathing, and compressing. Keeping Pa's heart pumping as time slipped away.

"They're on their way - gracious!" Tim looked up. Ma was standing in the doorway, her eyes wide, a hand pressed to her chest. _Don't have a heart attack, too, Ma! Please!_ Krypto hovered in the air, holding the truck by its tailgate, which by some miracle hadn't torn away completely. As they watched, he lowered the truck to the ground between them, front wheels touching down first.

"Good dog!" said Tim between compressions. He blinked sweat out of his eyes. "Oh, _good_ dog! Ma, under the passenger's seat is a case, bring it here, please."

Ma started forward as Krypto released the truck and flew back into the air and proceeded to fly in panicked circles above their heads. Tim ignored him. Ma fumbled with her keys and got the passenger's side open, then pulled out the case. He knew she could manage it - he'd seen her carry far heavier things before. She set it down next to him.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Portable defibrillator," he said, stopping compressions to turn on the device and reach for the pads inside.

He'd taken classes in its use, of course. He knew exactly what he needed to do, had gone through the motions multiple times in class and hundreds of times in his head. Now he set the pads on Pa's side and upper chest just as he'd been taught, following along with the voice that came through the machine's speakers, instructing him. When the voice told him to press the 'Shock' button, he looked up at Ma. "There should be a stethoscope and some packets of powdered aspirin under the seat in the truck, too," he said. "Would you get them for me?" She nodded and turned away.

He pressed the button, flinching as Pa's body jolted. More instructions came through the speakers. Not to touch the body. " _Analyzing_ ," said the machine, before telling him to press the 'Shock' button a second time. Tim did it. " _Analyzing_." Tim held his breath. " _Heartbeat detected_."

"Tim, does that mean...?" Tim looked up. Ma was on her knees across from him, the stethoscope gripped in white-knuckled hands. Two paper aspirin packets tumbled to the ground, unheeded. "Is he...is he going to make it...?"

Before Tim could answer, Superman landed beside her. He gathered Pa and the machine into his arms and disappeared into the sky.

"I don't know," said Tim, breathing out. He could hear sirens in the distance. He looked across the intervening space where Pa had lain a moment before. Tears were streaming down Ma's cheeks. He reached out to her and she clutched his hands in hers, her grip strong.

"Tim," she said. "Thank God you were here. If you hadn't been here...if you hadn't been here..." She couldn't speak, her voice breaking on a sob. Tim moved closer and let her rest her head on his shoulder. A moment later, Superman landed beside them. With a single breath, he put out the garden shed fire. Then he picked them up, an arm around each of them, and lifted them into the air, heading for the hospital.

"He's in intensive care," he said. "They said he has a very good chance."

"Thank God," said Ma again.

Tim just nodded. "We'll need to tell them to call back the ambulance," he said.

"I did," said Superman. A familiar scent teased Tim's nose: fresh like cedar, spicy like cinnamon...he took a breath, then let it out again. No, it wasn't quite right. Instead of a musky, pleasant animal smell, Superman's scent was underlain with something chemical, almost metallic, with a slightly unpleasant tang.

They landed on the steps of the hospital and Superman put them down. Ma rushed inside. Superman prepared to take off, probably to change into his alter-ego, but Tim stepped forward and stopped him.

"What is it, Tim?"

"That's the second time," said Tim in a low voice. "The second time you failed your family. If I hadn't been there-" He stopped. All at once, the anger left him, and he froze, stunned. "If _I_ hadn't been there," he said in wonder.

He couldn't kill himself.

It was a revelation, a lightning bolt in his brain, bright and powerful and illuminating everything. He _couldn't_ kill himself. He needed to be here. Not just for Pa and Ma, but for all the people he could potentially help, just by _being there_.

And now that he could see clearly, he realized how very selfish killing himself would have been.

Pa had nearly *died*, could still die, and the very idea of losing him made Tim's heart clench. Conner _had_ died. How could Tim even have _considered_ putting Ma and Pa through that again?

Superman was saying something about Braniac, and not being perfect. He asked Tim a question. Tim looked up at him blankly, and nodded. Superman smiled at him. "Thank you," he said, and rose off the ground.

Tim stayed where he was, staring off into the distance for a long time. Finally, he turned to go into the hospital.

* * *

Tim maneuvered his way through the sliding hospital doors, carefully setting down his burden on the plastic table in the lobby. Three coffees, for him, Clark, and Ma (Lois had gone home yesterday, thankfully - Tim liked her, but always found her rather overwhelming). Breakfast in a brown paper sack. Today it was bagels, along with lox for those that liked it and various flavors of cream cheese, courtesy of what Tim was pretty sure was the only Jewish family in Smallville. They had a nice shop down the street from the hospital, _and_ they had decent coffee at a reasonable price.

He took the other bag, filled with more bagels and cream cheese, to the front desk. "This is for the nurses," he told Maggie, the red-headed nurse-receptionist.

She grinned at him. "You're spoiling us, Tim!"

He smiled back at her and shrugged. The nurses had been so nice about letting Ma sleep on a cot in Pa's room. Tim always made sure to bring something for them. Now that Pa was out of danger, he wondered if he could talk Ma into going back to the farm.

Probably not. Ma could be awfully stubborn.

After leaving his bounty (or bribe, depending on how you looked at it) with Maggie, Tim went back outside to grab a newspaper from the box on the curb. He glanced at the headline as he fished in his pocket for change. " _Out with a Flash!_ " it screamed at him. Tim froze, then dug more frantically.

Moments later, he sat down heavily on the steps to hospital, his eyes skimming over the article. He'd been following the career of 'The Flash', who'd been showing up on Los Angeles more than Keystone, of late. Tim was pretty sure it was Bart, that he'd learned to control the speed instead of letting it consume him. There really wasn't anyone else it _could_ be, as far as Tim knew. The older Flash, Jay Garrick, was still based out of Keystone, Barry Allen was dead, and Wally West had disappeared a while ago.

The article was roundabout, of course, but the gist of it was that a group of rogues had built a machine to steal The Flash's speed, then beaten him to death.

"Oh, Bart," whispered Tim. He should have gone to see him. He should have at least tried to _call_. And now Bart was gone, like Conner. One of the last links he'd *had* to Conner. Tim felt guilty all over again for even considering killing himself. He couldn't begin to imagine how the Garricks must feel right now.

Tim carefully folded the paper, tucked it under his arm, and stood up. He blinked hard and turned to go back up the steps to the hospital.

* * *

A few days later, Tim found Ma at the kitchen table, peering through her bifocals at a checkbook. The table was covered with papers - bills, Tim realized as he came closer. Ma looked up at him as he came in through the swinging door. Her eyes were red.

He came to stand by her and said, "It's late, Ma. You should get some sleep."

She gave him a weak smile. "I just need to figure a few things out, Tim. You go on up."

He shook his head and sat down. After a moment of quiet, he said, "Won't the insurance cover his medical bills?"

"Ye-es," said Ma, "it _will_ , but only after we meet the deductible."

"How much is the deductible?"

Ma sighed and rubbed her eyes. "It's a few thousand dollars. You needn't worry about it, Tim. We'll manage. We always have."

"Ma," said Tim. "Let me help you!"

Ma frowned. "Oh, Tim. We can't take your money."

Tim clenched his hands into fists. "At this rate, the only way you'll ever accept anything from me is if I _Will_ it to you after I'm dead!" _And I'm not going to do that. I can't,_ he reminded himself.

Ma looked startled. Slowly, she shook her head. "That would be a terrible thing, Tim." He opened his mouth to retort, but she continued, "No parent wants to outlive her child, and no grandparent wants to outlive her grandchild."

"But I'm not _really_ part of your family. If I were, you'd let me help! You would let _Clark_ help!" He pushed out his chair and stood abruptly, turning away, too angry and hurt to face her anymore.

"Tim." She reached out to him. "You misunderstand." He stood still, his tense back to her, and listened. "I've never taken anything from Clark if I could possibly help it. We're the parents, the adults. We should be the ones providing for you, not the other way around. If there's one thing I..." She stopped and sighed. "I've never wanted to be a burden on my children. We've always struggled so hard to save enough, but something always seems to happen. I remember one year when Clark was quite young, still...there was a terrible drought, and it wiped out every last bit of our savings. Or an animal gets sick, or something breaks down and needs to be repaired or replaced. And now this."

Tim didn't turn around, but his shoulders relaxed a trifle. "I'll bet having a super-powered teenager around didn't help, either." He was rewarded by a chuckle.

"Did I ever tell you about the time Clark accidentally set fire to the barn with his heat vision? The insurance company was convinced it was arson, and that we'd set it ourselves - until we showed them that the money they would be giving us would barely cover the cost of the repairs." She sighed again. "He felt so bad about it, too, poor boy." Tim heard the rustle of papers as she gathered up the bills. "At this rate there'll be nothing to support us in our old age but a double-mortgaged farm," she said, an unusual edge of bitterness to her tone.

Tim turned around and came back to the table. He sat down. He reached out and touched her shoulder. "Ma, do you remember when we watched that Christmas movie on TV together last year? 'A Christmas Carol'?"

"Of course," she said.

"There was a line one of the spirits said to Scrooge...I remembered it because it struck me at the time. Scrooge says his nephew has never been able to put by a penny, and the Ghost says to him, 'perhaps he's _put by_ more than money'." He pulled his hand back. "It made me think of you and Pa. Ma, if it hadn't been for you, I..." Tim stared down at the table with its red-and-white tablecloth. The windows were dark. There was no sound but the steady ticking of the kitchen clock. "I never would have known what it _meant_ to have a family. My parents have money. But they. They don't love me."

"Tim!" He glanced up at Ma's shocked face and down again. "I'm sure that's not true. _All_ parents love their children. They just...don't understand how to show it."

His fingers slid to the edge of the table and gripped it unconsciously. "It is true, Ma. They never loved me, and I never loved them. I don't even _know_ them. It was _you_ , you and Pa who showed me what it meant...I. If it hadn't been for you." He shook himself and let go of the table. "You are the best people I've ever met. You took Clark in, you took me in, you took...took _Conner_ in. You. You've 'put-by' so much more than _money_! You've given us all so _much_. Given me so much. Compared to that, money is just...just _nothing_! I'm *embarrassed* that it's all I have to offer you."

"But it's not," said Ma. Tim looked up to see her smiling at him, though tears glimmered in her eyes. "You gave us _yourself_ , Tim. How could we ask for more than that?"

Tim reached out and covered her hands with his own. "Ma, listen. I have full access to my trust fund, now. But it's not really _my_ money. I mean, it's not like I worked hard for it or anything. I didn't _earn_ it. My parents just gave it to me. Someday I'll get a job and earn my own money, and then you can refuse to take it if you want, but this...it's like I won it in a, a contest or something."

"But you'll need that money to go to school, to-"

"There's more than enough for that, Ma," Tim spoke quickly, eagerly. He squeezed her fingers. "There's more than enough for _me_. The one thing I want more than anything in the world is for Pa to get better and for you not to worry anymore. Look, we can call it a loan if you want - a very long-term loan. Just...let me do this for you. Let me take care of all of _this_ ," he said, gesturing to the papers on the table and looked at her pleadingly, holding his breath as he waited for her answer.

* * *

Tim stepped out of the real estate office, a slight smile on his face. They'd decided to leave the first mortgage alone, since there were only eight months left on it anyway and the payments were low. The second mortgage, though, was worth nearly a third of the farm's current value according to the appraisal he'd ordered.

Ma and Pa were proud, but when Tim had characterized it as him buying an interest in the farm, they had been far more amenable to the idea of him taking over the mortgage. (They didn't need to know that he'd just paid it off. Why spend all that extra money in interest if he didn't have to?) And the one thing they had all insisted on - even Clark! - was that Tim's name be put on the property title along with Ma and Pa's. Even Clark's name wasn't on the _title_. Tim had suggested that maybe it should be, but Clark had just smiled at him and said, "You saved Pa's life, Tim. And I can't always be here to take care of things. I'll feel better if I know _you_ are."

Added to that, he'd been able to make that _other_ purchase he wanted, thanks to the help of a discreet and surprisingly savvy Smallville real estate agent. Fortunately, most of the property's value had been in the land, rather than the broken-down old house, so Tim had been able to offer a price that was close to what it should have been worth without raising suspicions. It wasn't that he felt bad for burning the place down. But burning it down and then buying it at a lower price felt awfully slimy, somehow.

Either way, the old Luthor property was now his, lock, stock and barrel. Since Luthor was in jail pending his arraignment, all transactions had been done by mail, with Luthor (hopefully) none the wiser that it was his erstwhile employee who had actually signed the ownership papers for the burned-out husk of his childhood home.

Tim's smile widened. He had _plans_ for that old place.

And then there was the email he'd received from his mom just yesterday. Since she and his father had decided to move back to Gotham permanently, she wondered if Tim wanted ownership of the Smallville house. Tim wasn't entirely sure if it was an olive branch, a bribe, or if his parents genuinely just didn't care about the Smallville house. Probably all three. It didn't matter - he'd sent a carefully-worded reply expressing interest and offering to purchase the property if his parents wanted to make it official.  It had been the only thing he'd wanted from them, the one thing his parents could still give him.

The land his parents' house stood on could almost double the size of the Kents' farm. And while Tim didn't plan on having them work all that land themselves (Pa needed to take it easy, as far as he was concerned) the idea of taking the fallow, unused land attached his parents' old house and turning it into something productive and life-giving made him happy. Maybe he could rent out the huge place to a couple of low-income families in exchange for some help with the farming? He'd have to think about it.

There was a crispness to the air, and the trees lining the street were turning brilliant shades of red and orange and yellow. _I wish Conner could see this_ , thought Tim with a pang, but, though Conner's absence still ached, Tim found himself looking forward to tomorrow.

* * *

"It looks great, Natasha." Tim shaded his eyes, looking up at the sign on the newly-renovated building:

 

**STEELWORKS**

_Solving Problems the Old-fashioned Way -_

_With Hard Work, Ingenuity, and Elbow Grease_

"Thanks, Tim." Natasha put her hands on her hips and looked up at the sign proudly. "Uncle John and I built it together." She glanced at him. "How did the court stuff go?"

Tim shrugged. He slung the coat of his new, expensive business suit over one shoulder and loosened his tie as he spoke. "Luthor's got a damn good set of lawyers. 'So Mr. Luthor was new to his super-powers when you attacked him? Is it possible that he didn't know his own strength?' Et cetera.'"

Natasha snorted and rolled her eyes. "Yeah, my subpoena's for later this week. You gonna be there?"

Tim shook his head. "No, today was my last day. I'm flying home tonight." He felt a tap on his shoulder and turned.

Conner was standing there.

For a long moment, Tim stood still, staring, hardly breathing. Then he took a step back, his coat slithering off his shoulder and to the ground, unheeded. "Who are you?" he said, trying to make his voice hard, instead of sounding like he didn't have enough air. "Shapeshifter? Hannibal?" Tim hadn't dealt much with the first member of Infinity, Inc, but Natasha had told him afterward how the shapeshifter had killed her boyfriend and then posed as him, all the while acting as a mole for Luthor inside the I.I. team.

Conner ( _it's not Conner!_ he tried to tell himself) shook his head. "Tim," he said, "It's me. It's really me."

Hannibal had to ingest a small quantity of genetic material from anyone or anything he imitated. But where would he have gotten Conner's genetic material? And _why?_

Natasha took a protective step forward, her eyes narrowing. "Tim-"

He lifted a hand to stop her, never looking away from Conner's face. "You're not Conner. Conner is...is gone."

Conner held up both hands, palms up, helplessly. "Tim, I- What do you want me to say, man?"

It sounded like him. It sounded so _much_ like him. The breeze lifted, and Tim caught the faintest whiff of his scent - fresh and spicy and musky. "Tell me something," he found himself saying, his voice thin in his own ears. "Tell me something only Conner would know."

Conner leaned forward to the ear facing away from Natasha and whispered, "So, I hear you were working for Lex Luthor. You guys play with his _Erection Set_?"

Tim gasped. And laughed. And gasped again. And then he was laughing and crying at the same time, because only Conner would have picked _that_ to prove his identity. Tim flung his arms around Conner's neck and felt himself being lifted easily. He tilted his head down and pressed his mouth to Conner's. Again. Again.

Slowly, Conner lowered him, so he had to tilt his head up again, and that felt even better, felt _familiar_ , and then Tim buried his head in Conner's shoulder, smelling him, except his nose was stuffed up because he was sobbing. Weeping as he hadn't done since Conner died.

"Tim," said Conner. "Tim, man, Tim, _Tim._ " He stroked one hand down Tim's back, the other wrapped around his waist. "It's okay. I'm here. I'm really here."

"You were gone." said Tim. "I thought you were _d-dead_. H-how?"

"It's a long story," said Conner gently. "How 'bout I tell it to you on the way home?"

Tim lifted his head and fished in his pocket for a tissue, but he didn't have one in his suit pants. Natasha pressed one into his hand. Taking it gratefully, he blew his nose and wiped his eyes. "Conner. _Conner_. I. I'm dreaming, aren't I?"

Conner grinned wickedly at him and Tim felt the unmistakable sensation of TTK giving his ass a hard pinch. He yelped and jumped, and almost glared at Conner for a moment. "Guess you're not," said Conner nonchalantly.

Tim couldn't help it. He laughed. "I'd forgotten how crazy you make me," he said, wiping his nose again on the now-soggy tissue. Natasha handed him another one. He blinked and looked at her.

"Who's the hot chick?" asked Conner, leering. He kept his arms around Tim, though. Tim chuckled.

"This is Natasha. Natasha, this is my...my boyfriend. Conner Kent."

Conner's arms tightened, just a little, on the word 'boyfriend'. He let go of Tim with one hand and held it out. "Pleased to meet you,"

"Likewise," said Natasha. She was smiling as she took his hand and shook it firmly. "And just so you know, if you aren't exactly who you say you are, or if you hurt Tim in any way, I will _find_ you and rip your balls off."

Conner blinked. "Good to know," he said.

" _Natasha!_ " objected Tim. "He's real. And...everything is okay. Everything is...okay." Tears threatened again, so he squeezed his eyes shut and tried to breathe steadily. Conner ruined it, though, by pulling him close once more.

* * *

Kon sat on the bed and looked around at the hotel room. It was a really nice room, with a big fancy TV and prominent room service menus.

"Have you seen Ma and Pa, yet?" asked Tim as he pulled off his tie.

"Yeah. Well, I saw Ma. She told me where to find you. She said she wanted to break the news to Pa slowly - said he had a heart attack?"

Tim just nodded. "Yeah. I have a lot to tell you." He stuffed the shirt and tie into his backpack, heedless of wrinkles. Kon let his eyes rest on Tim's bare chest and back. He looked good; even more toned than Kon remembered. "But first, you have some things to tell me. Like how you're _alive_. You were *dead*, Conner."

Kon nodded and combed a hand through his hair. Tim was...he was older. More confident. It was kind of weird.

It was also a turn-on.

"I don't understand it all myself," he said. "The Legion of Superheroes - they're a group in, like, the 30th century or something. They took my body and, uh, re-grew me? I guess?"

Tim paused, his hands resting on the waistband of his pants, the tease. "But you're _you_. You have all your memories. You're not a clone."

"Yeah." Kon shrugged and shifted on the bed as Tim pulled down his pants, revealing dark blue boxer-briefs. That was new. Kon remembered him wearing tighty-whiteys exclusively. "Um." He blinked and caught up with the conversation. "I don't know, they took my body and put it in some sort of advanced technology at Superman's Fortress, and, I guess 'cause I'm half-Kryptonian, they were able to bring me back. It took, like, a thousand years, though."

"A _thousand years?_ Jeez." Tim shook his head, frowning thoughtfully, as his pants joined the rest of his suit in his backpack. "'Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic,'" he muttered.

"Did you make that up?" asked Kon, impressed.

Tim looked up, clearly startled, then smiled. His smile made Kon's dick twitch. "No, it's a quote by a famous science-fiction author, Arthur C. Clark."

"Oh," said Kon.

"I only brought this, since I didn't want to have to check any baggage on the plane," Tim went on, digging through his backpack and eventually pulling out a t-shirt. "I know you offered, but are you sure you don't mind carrying me all the way back to Smallville? I do have a plane ticket I can use."

"I don't mind," said Kon, his eyes not leaving Tim's body. "But, uh..."

Tim looked up at him. "What is it?"

"Ma and Pa aren't expecting you back until tomorrow, right?" Tim nodded. "And you're gonna have to pay for the hotel room no matter what, right?" Tim nodded again, sudden understanding coming into his eyes. He flushed, the color making its way up his chest and into his face. "I know you're the king of compartmentalization and all," Kon went on, leaning back a little, "But _I'm_ not."

Tim ducked his head, for a minute looking like the Tim that Kon remembered. Then he met Kon's eyes and stepped forward into Kon's arms. Kon could feel him trembling.

"Conner," he whispered. "Kon-El. Superboy. I..."

Kon kissed him, slow and hot. Tim tensed, then melted against him. Kon glanced down to see him hardening inside the thin, dark fabric of his boxer-briefs. "I like your underwear," he whispered. "Totally sexy, dude."

Tim laughed that laugh that sounded too raw, too broken, and pressed forward, straddling him. "I missed you so much, Conner. So much."

Guilt stabbed at Kon. "I know. I'm sorry I didn't come back earlier. They had to wait until after this big memorial service they had in Metropolis, they said. I guess my body was moved then and that's when the people from the future came and got it-" Tim's shut him up with a kiss.

"Conner, they gave you back to me. They brought you _back._ Nothing else matters." he said against Kon's lips before kissing him again.

Kon closed his eyes and returned the kiss.

* * *

Later, as they lay twined together on the bed, Kon running his hands up and down Tim's pliant body, he said, "So. Working for Luthor, huh? What was up with _that?_ "

Tim shifted in his arms a little. "It's - ah - a long story."

Kon glanced at the clock. "It's four o'clock in the afternoon. We've got time," he said gently.

"Right." Tim shifted again, tensing a little, then sighed and relaxed. "All right. After you...died, Oracle got in contact with me..."

Kon listened as Tim spoke, filling him in on all the things that had happened during the time he'd been gone.

"So Luthor's gonna be convicted?" he said when Tim had finished. "And Pa's gonna be all right?"

"Yes, it looks like it in both cases," said Tim softly.

"Good." The sun slanting in through the windows was growing long, the room warm and comfortable.

"Conner," said Tim.

"Yeah?"

"There was another reason I wanted to work for Luthor."

"...Another?"

"I thought it very likely that he would try again." At Kon's obvious confusion, he clarified, "Try to create another clone."

Kon blinked. "Of me?"

Tim took a breath. "Yeah," he said. "He succeeded once, and if you hadn't broken out early, he would have had complete control over you." Tim shuddered a little. Kon tightened his hold slightly. "I had to get access to those files. I had to _know_."

"Tim." Kon swallowed. "You wouldn't have...you weren't planning on trying yourself, were you? To clone me, I mean?"

" _What?_ " Tim pulled out of his arms and sat up, turning to look down at Kon. "No, of _course_ not!"

"Okay. Good. I'm sorry, I just-"

"I would never...it wouldn't have been *you*, Conner. Kon-El." As it always did, hearing his Kryptonian name on Tim's lips made him shiver. "It wouldn't have been...the man I love."

"I love you, too," said Kon softly.

"I just...couldn't bear the idea that Luthor might create another version of you, one that was his _slave_. I didn't tell Oracle or...or anybody, because...well, what I did. It was basically industrial sabotage."

"So he _was_ trying again?"

"He...he was trying. But he wasn't using Kryptonian DNA, he was using DNA from other aliens...I sabotaged it anyway. I put in a back door to the files and later uploaded a virus to the system that would corrupt the data to the point of unusability. I wasn't going to let him do to *anyone* what he did to you."

Kon was silent as he considered Tim's words. "I'm sorry," he whispered finally. "I had to ask.."

"It's okay. I. I didn't do that, but...I did-" He stopped.

Kon frowned. "Did...?"

Tim pressed his forehead into Kon's shoulder. "I...wanted to die, Conner. I wanted to. Kill myself."

Kon couldn't _breathe_. Tim pushed against his hold and Kon released him, realizing he'd been squeezing him too tight in sudden, retroactive panic. "You _can't!_ "

"I know. I know. I didn't - I _wouldn't!_ "

"But you almost _did?_ " What if he'd come back and Tim had been _gone?_

"Conner, after Pa's heart attack, I realized that I _couldn't_ do it. I did think about it, at first, but...I realized it would have been selfish. If I'd been dead, Pa would have died, too."

"And _you_ would have been dead," said Kon fiercely. "What would I have _done_ , Tim?"

Tim was silent for a long moment. "You would have gone on," he said. "Like I did." He leaned down and nuzzled Kon's shoulder.

Kon blinked back a sudden wetness in his eyes. "I'm sorry I left you alone."

"I know," said Tim. He added softly, "I still can't believe this is _real_. I keep thinking I'm going to wake up."

Kon took a hard breath. "Should I pinch you again?" he said, trying to sound playful.

"Not like I can stop you," said Tim, sounding as fragile as Kon felt. But he laughed when Kon goosed him with his TTK - an actual, honest-sounding laugh. Then he leaned up for a kiss.

And Kon knew everything was going to be all right.

[ ](http://improvinspi.livejournal.com/7886.html)   
_"Chillin'" by[improvinspi](http://improvinspi.livejournal.com/7886.html). Please do not re-post without the artist's permission._

~End of Year Three: Fall~


	14. Year Four: "Fruition", Winter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When he was nine years old, young Timothy Drake's family decided to move to a small town in Kansas...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 10,351 words  
> Rating: NC-17  
> Notes: This last chapter turned into a monster, weighing in at more than 10,000 words! What can I say? These two are hard to stop writing. I want to thank every one of you that commented on an earlier chapter: you guys are the ones that kept me going, even when I was struggling. Special thanks to everyone that drew art for me and graciously gave me permission to integrate it into the story! And thanks are due as always to the_protagonist, batstalker, and especially to iesika. Without iesika this fic would not exist.

"Hello?" Tim's voice was sleepy.

Kon took a breath, swallowing the lump of rage and sorrow that was making his throat feel tight. "Um, Tim? It's me. It's Superboy."

Suddenly Tim sounded a lot more awake. "Where are you? What's wrong?"

"...It's a long story." Kon took another breath. "I'm at Lori's house. You know her? She was a year behind us at Smallville High..." And now she was in the same class as Kon, thanks to his 'cancer scare' and year-long leave of absence. School kind of sucked without Tim there, but at least Kon was in his final year. And Tim tutored him whenever he needed it. When the tutoring sessions didn't turn into makeout sessions, at least...

"Yes, I know her," said Tim, startling Kon from his thoughts. There were shifting noises, then tapping sounds. "Is she all right?"

"Ye- yeah. Well, sort of. She...look, can you get to her house?"

"Of course. I've got her address pulled up on the computer," he said.

Kon smiled a little despite himself. "Of course you do. Thanks, Tim."

"You're welcome. I'll be there in about fifteen minutes. Maybe less," said Tim, and hung up.

Kon pressed the 'End Call' button on his cell.

A few minutes later Tim's truck screeched to a stop in front of the house. Kon hurried to meet him as he got out. "Hey. Thanks for coming."

"Of course. What happened? Are you okay?"

"Yeah. I...I guess I should have come and gotten you, that probably would have been faster, huh?" Kon combed a hand back through his hair and sat down on the stoop in front of the house. "It's just, after what he did to her...I couldn't leave her alone. I..." He trailed off, rage and helplessness rising in him again, making his eyes burn.

"Superboy." Tim put his hand on Kon's shoulder. "Calm down."

Kon shut his eyes and leaned into Tim's touch. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize." Tim's voice was very gentle. "Can you tell me what happened here? I see a large, burned circle in the grass, and what looks like a hole in the wall of the house behind us-"

"Yeah, I did that," admitted Superboy. "Well, the hole, anyway, when went after him..."

"Went after who?" Tim prompted.

" _Lex Luthor_ ," Kon all but spat. "He's Lori's _uncle_." Tim opened his mouth, then closed it again, frowning hard. "He...no, I'd better start from the beginning." Kon pressed the heels of his hands against his closed eyes for a long moment. Finally he spoke. "You know I don't need as much sleep these days, what with all the sun I've been getting. I've been patrolling a bit at night, keeping an eye on things." Tim nodded, his hand still resting on Kon's shoulder. "I caught Lori...she was vandalizing Dr. Greer's office." Tim's frown deepened even further, but he didn't speak, just nodded for Kon to go on. "I should have taken her to the police, I guess...but I wanted to know why she'd done it. I flew her home so she could tell me." And Lori had kissed him, and he'd told her he was involved with someone else... Kon shook his head, trying to clear it. "Her mom's really sick and the doctor refused to help her when her insurance wouldn't cover her meds, I guess."

Tim watched him steadily. When Kon didn't go on, Tim said, "I've heard about her...they say she suffered a bad fall as a child, and afterward developed signs of something that resembled Morisson's disease. I didn't know she was being refused treatment. If I had..." He trailed off, then looked at Kon again. "But what does all this have to do with Lex Luthor?"

"I'm getting to it," said Kon. "I...He was _here_ , Tim. He he had *Kryptonite*."

Tim sucked in air, his eyes going wide. "Are you _sure_ you're all right?" He stared into Kon's face, and Kon could hear his heart speed up.

"I'm all right. _I'm_ all right. But she..." Kon shook his head, thinking of the look on Lori's face.

"What did he do to her?" Tim's voice was hard.

"He c-cured her. He _cured_ her. And then he took it _away!_ "

Tim's hand tightened on his shoulder. "Co- Superboy, you're not making sense."

Kon bit his lip. "Sorry." He wrapped his arms around himself and hung his head. "While I was talking to Lori, Luthor showed up at the door. He had Kryptonite. I...I challenged him. Called him names. Told him he couldn't even cure his _own sister_. He goes on and on about how he could cure cancer and diabetes and everything if it weren't for Superman, but his own sister's in a wheelchair!" Tim nodded. "I figured I was calling his bluff. But...he said he could do it. He said he could cure her." Kon took a shaky breath. "He told me he needed a bunch of stuff. Sent me all over the place...Bizarro World, Paradise Island...to get the ingredients. It's a good thing my super-speed's getting faster, or I couldn't have done it. Anyway, he...he did it. He cured her. She stood up. She _walked._ She was coherent. And then..." He couldn't say it.

"And then?"

"He...he made her sick again. Gave her another injection before any of us even knew what was _happening_ , and she just *collapsed*-" He had to stop and clear his throat. Tim reached out and took his hand, squeezing it. "I didn't know what to do," admitted Kon hoarsely. "All I could think of was to call you. I'm sorry I woke you-"

Tim waved off his apology. "I'm glad you called me," he said. "So, after he made her sick again, you threw him through the wall?"

"Hell yeah I did! I wanted to _make_ him fix it!"

"But...?"

"But _Braniac_ showed up."

"Braniac." Tim's voice was thoughtful, his eyes distant. "He and Luthor are working together?"

"They sure seemed pretty buddy-buddy," said Kon, "and Braniac teleported them both out."

"I see. That's what caused the burned circle on the grass?"

"I guess...I don't know! Does it matter? That bastard-"

"I understand." Tim squeezed his hand again. His expression was still thoughtful. "Superboy. Can you remember all of the ingredients he asked you to get?"

"What? Yeah, of course. There was some pretty crazy stuff on there."

Tim fished in his pocket and drew out a small notepad and pen. "Would you mind writing them down for me?"

"Sure." Kon took the pen and paper and started writing. Halfway through, he looked up at Tim, the beginning of something like hope swelling in his chest. "Do you think you might be able to-"

Tim held up his hand. "Lex Luthor has years of experience and education I don't," said Tim quietly. "He's a genius. I highly doubt I can re-create his cure. But...I do know some scientists who might be able to help."

Kon squeezed his eyes shut again. "Thank you," he said.

* * *

Tim scowled down at the weird assortment of ingredients again. He'd studied a great deal of bio-chemistry in a very short time, both for the job at LexCorp and in order to be able to decipher the files Luthor had been keeping on his cloning experiments. This, however, was beyond him. Beyond every scientist he'd spoken with, in fact.

So Tim did what he'd taken to doing when he was frustrated and needed to let his brain chew on something else for a time. He worked on trying to decipher the computer cards he'd rescued from Luthor's basement.

Glancing around the room, he was aware of a certain irony. The room bore little resemblance to the basement where he'd first discovered the cards. Full-spectrum lightbulbs blazed overhead, giving an illusion of sunlight. The floor was made from locally-grown wood, and the walls had been plastered and painted a neutral off-white. The area was divided into a room with a nice fold-out couch and wide-screen TV where Conner could hang out and an office/lab where Tim could work in peace.

Nevertheless, though the space had been transformed, it was still the same basement where he'd discovered the cards in the first place. The house itself wasn't built yet, there hadn't been time for that, but Tim was pleased enough so far. The actual building was mostly going to be Conner's domain, anyway, and the other man was having a great time figuring out what he wanted to do with it.

Tim smiled at the thought, then sighed and glared down at the cards. He'd built a scanner for them and written a program to decode them that _should_ have worked. But Luthor had used some kind of code, and all that his program had produced thus far looked like so much gibberish. Tim picked up the top card and peered at it. It was hardly likely that the cards held the secrets of the ages - though with Luthor you never knew - but it was one more challenge, one more thing that might help him understand how Luthor thought.

That paranoid son-of-a-bitch, that-

Wait. Tim stared at the cards. Each one was clearly marked with a small, pencil-drawn arrow in the corner, showing which side was 'up' and which direction it should be fed into the machine. With a small laugh at himself for such a crazy idea, Tim turned the stack of cards upside-down and, after a moment's thought, turned them in the opposite direction of the arrow. Then he set them to feed into the machine and got up to make himself a cup of Darjeeling tea.

He hadn't really expected the answer to be that simple, despite knowing how fond Luthor was of hiding the truth in plain sight and assuming that everyone else was too stupid to figure it out (he'd done the same thing with his _Everyman_ formula and the 'off-switch' he'd built in, after all). So when Tim returned and found actual _words_ on his computer screen, he nearly dropped his tea.

Instead he set it down and started to read.

He examined the information, then read through it again. Then again. Then he pulled out his cell phone.

The tea, forgotten, went cold.

* * *

"The key," said Tim, "Was the prehistoric whisk fern. Which you neglected to mention in the first ingredient list you gave me." He raised an eyebrow at Kon.

Kon put his hand on the back of his neck. "I _told_ you, he used it to make _tea_ with! He even started drinking it in front of me!"

Tim smirked. "Luthor likes to hide his answers in plain sight," he said.

"Yeah, I guess he hadn't counted on _you_ figuring him out," said Kon admiringly.

"Well, to be fair, I had help," admitted Tim.

"The scientists you contacted?" asked Kon.

"No...in a strange way, Luthor himself was the one that helped me." Tim went over to his computer and picked up a yellowed card punched with small, rectangular holes. "Do you remember these?"

"Yeah," said Kon. He frowned, puzzled. "Didn't they get burned up? I thought-"

"I took them with me," said Tim. "I don't know why. I guess they were just the one thing I hadn't finished with in that basement. The slide-rule, the books...they were all replaceable. But the cards were something Luthor himself made, and I'd always planned on seeing what they contained someday. As it turned out, it was a good thing I did." He set the card back on the top of the stack.

"Why?" asked Kon. "What was on them?"

"A formula," said Tim, "for a poison."

"A poison?"

"A very slow-acting, long-term poison, to be exact. One that mimicked the symptoms of a particular wasting disease."

Kon stared. He opened his mouth, then closed it again. Tim raised an eyebrow at him. "You mean to tell me that Lex Luthor _poisoned_ his own sister? *Why?*" Kon burst out.

"I have a couple of theories," said Tim, "but nothing concrete yet. More importantly, once I knew the chemical make-up of the poison, I was able to extrapolate what Luthor likely used for the cure. Most of the ingredients he sent you to obtain were used to make a new batch of the poison, which he injected into his sister after he'd given her the cure. In fact, almost all of the ingredients are actually easily obtainable, chemically speaking. Luthor just asked for the most esoteric versions of them possible - again, it was his way of obscuring the truth. Even if you gave the list to someone else, they would assume that there was something special about the fragment of limestone you brought back from Paradise Island, not that any limestone would do."

Kon closed his hands into fists as he remembered the way Lori's mom had crumpled back into her chair, remembered the look on Lori's face.. "It was all a wild goose-chase," he said, his jaw tight with fury. "He had me collecting the ingredients he used to make her sick again! If only I could get my hands on him-"

"I'm going to try making the cure," said Tim briskly, interrupting him. "I don't know if it will work, but I have to try. I'm going to need another prehistoric whisk fern, preferably the whole plant and root ball this time."

Kon groaned. "Do you have any idea how much of a pain that was to get? Why do you need the whole plant? Luthor just asked for a leaf. Besides, you said that the ingredients were easily obtainable-"

"The ingredients for the _poison_ are easily obtainable," corrected Tim. "It's the cure that's hard to make. Besides," he added with a sigh, "I doubt Lena is the only person Luthor's used this poison on. She was probably his test case." Kon caught his breath. That hadn't even occurred to him. "Also..." Tim trailed off thoughtfully.

"Also?"

"I told you that the poison mimics the symptoms of a certain wasting disease. I'm pretty sure Luthor created it by reverse-engineering Morisson's disease, in fact. There's a chance that this cure could work for more than just victims of his poison. It _might_ cure the disease itself."

That *really* gave Kon pause. "All this time, he could have been curing people, and instead he used the knowledge to make people _sick_ ," he said.

Tim nodded calmly. "But now we can use his own discovery against him. *If* you can get me that prehistoric whisk fern, hopefully without killing the plant in the process."

Nodding, Kon said grimly, "I'll get it."

* * *

Tim looked up as Conner burst through the kitchen doors. Before he could speak, Conner was sweeping him into his arms and kissing him breathless. Tim glanced at Ma, who was smiling over the batch of sweet potatoes she was turning into pies, and Pa, who grinned at them over his coffee-cup. Tim grinned back. He might be embarrassed, but he wasn't about to ask Conner to put him down.

"I - " Conner kissed him again. "I take it the formula worked, then?" asked Tim quickly between kisses.

"You are _amazing!_ " said Conner. "She said it _totally_ worked. Said it was like watching her mom get sick in reverse. By the end of Saturday, she was coherent again. By the end of Sunday, she was standing up. And by the end of Monday, she was *walking*, a little weak, still, but walking around outside like anyone! She was crying as she told me, Tim!" He laughed, sounding giddy. "She said that President's Day is her new favorite holiday ever."

Tim closed his eyes. He hadn't been sure...he'd deliberately made the infusions weak, and spread them across nine doses, three a day for three days, with firm instructions that if Lena felt sick or had any adverse reactions, she was to stop taking them right away.

"You *did* it!" Conner kissed him yet again. "You _cured_ her! We should celebrate. We should - Hey, I know! Let's invite Bart over and-" Tim stiffened, his heart dropping.

"Conner," he said quietly. "Bart is...he's dead."

Conner blinked at him. "Dude, since _when?_ "

"Last fall. After you...left, he was trapped in the Speed Force for awhile, he aged...lost several years..." he trailed off. Ma and Pa were staring at him - he hadn't told them about his visit to Bart - and Conner was grinning at him. As Tim watched, confused, Conner lifted his phone to his ear and pressed a couple of buttons by feel.

"Dude," said Conner, "Party at my place. Can you come over?" He paused, then said, "Right now. Fast as you can."

There was a breeze, and the kitchen screen slammed. Bart stood before them, the phone still pressed to his ear.

"Fast enough for you?" he said.

"Bart?" Tim whispered. "You're..." He turned to Conner. "Why didn't you _tell_ me?"

"I thought you _knew!_ " said Conner. "You always know everything, dude, and it's not like he's kept a low profile."

Tim felt sheepish. "I did see reports about a new Kid Flash in town, but I thought it had to be someone else. I thought it *couldn't* be Bart, since Bart was dead." He turned to Bart again. "You're alive...and you're..."

"I'm young again?" Bart laughed brightly.

"Yeah. _How?_ "

"The same people that brought me back," Conner cut in.

"Did they re-grow Bart, too?"

"Nah." Bart laughed again as Krypto pushed open the screen and started to lick him excitedly. "Down, boy! The guys that killed me, they used this big machine to suck the Speed Force out of me. 'cept, when I died, I guess it pulled my," he shrugged, "My soul or essence or something, and locked that into the Speed Force, too."

"So...these people in the future, they unlocked you from the Speed Force and grew a new body for you?"

Bart shrugged. "Something like that, I guess. I dunno how it worked, really. But I'm glad to be back!"

Tim pulled away from Conner and crossed the kitchen to throw his arms around Bart's neck, to Bart's surprise and Krypto's delight. The Superdog floated up and tried to lick both of them at once. "You're really alive," said Tim. "You and Conner, you're both _alive_."

"Yeah," said Bart. Guilt flickered across his mobile features. "I'm sorry I didn't come and tell you. I kinda thought you knew, too."

"It's okay. God, it's _okay_ ," said Tim, hugging him again. He swallowed hard against the thickness in his throat, taking deep, shuddering breaths that hovered on the edge of sobs.

Bart hugged him back, his wiry arms surprisingly strong. "I remember you came to see me," he said. "I really appreciated that, Tim."

"I should have gone _back_ ," said Tim. "But then you were in Los Angeles, and..." _And everything was kind of weird, and then you were *dead*_...

"Pft. *I'm* the fastest teen alive, Tim. I'm the one that should have made time to see you. But so much happened so _fast_ -" He stopped, grinning, acknowledging the irony of the statement.

"Bart, can you stay for dinner?" Ma was beaming at both of them. Tim let go of Bart and rubbed his sleeve over his face, trying to wipe his eyes without being too obvious about it.

"That would be great! If it wouldn't be too much trouble," Bart said. "I could help, if you need me to."

"No trouble at all," said Ma, pulling a casserole out of the freezer and setting it on the counter. "Now, you boys go have a nice talk, and be back at six sharp."

"Thanks, Mrs. Kent!"

"Thanks, Ma." Tim watched as Conner hugged her before they went out the door, then took his hand, entwining their fingers. His chest still felt shaky, like he might burst into tears at the slightest provocation.

"Dude! You haven't seen our new place!" Conner grinned at Bart as the door swung shut behind them. It didn't slam - Conner must have used his TTK to keep it from swinging closed too hard.

" _Our_ new place?" Bart looked from one of them to the other.

"Yeah! Tim bought this lot practically next door, where the building burned down, and he's building a new house there. It's just the basement right now, but it's really cool. And the house is gonna be _totally awesome!_ "

"Sweet! I'll race you there!" said Bart, and disappeared in a puff of dust, only to reappear again a moment later. "Where did you say it was, again?"

The shaking in Tim's chest turned to laughter. Apparently, some things never changed.

* * *

Tim peered through the glass at his crop of whisk ferns. It had taken time to find the proper wavelengths and ratio of carbon dioxide in the atmosphere, but he had eventually, and they were thriving. Fortunately, they grew quickly. He was still trying to isolate the chemical component responsible for the cure, but until he did and could discover a way to synthesize it, he would have plenty of leaves available for his experiments. The thought made him smile.

His smile disappeared at the sound of a loud CRASH in the next room over. Before he could do more than turn around, something burst through the wall dividing his lab and office area from the other room in the basement

Lex Luthor stood there, a nightmare in green and purple armor.

"Timothy Drake," he sneered. "My former employee."

"Hello, Mr. Luthor," said Tim as calmly as he could. "I haven't seen you since the trial. What brings you to my humble abode?"

Luthor growled and looked around the room. "It used to be *my* humble abode, you know."

"I know," said Tim. He rose to his feet and casually walked across the room, trying not to let his heart beat too fast, even though Luthor had a small laser canon trained on him.

"You worked for me, bought my old home from me...and now you're using something *I* invented to cure people with Morisson's disease."

Tim shrugged. "There was no patent on it. I checked," he said.

"No," Luthor growled. "Because I didn't intend the world to have it, yet." His eyes narrowed as he stared at Tim over the barrel on his arm. "What are you doing, Drake? Trying to _become_ me?"

Tim laughed, short and humorless. "Hardly," he said. "I'll never be like you, Lex Luthor."

The strong overhead lights gleamed off of Luthor's armor and his pale, bald skull. His eyes glittered. "No? Well if you're not _with_ me..." He swung the canon around to point at Tim's array of whisk-fern plants behind their glass. Tim could hear the hum as the laser powered up.

Before Luthor could fire, Tim covered the last couple of feet to the corner of the room and flicked a switch on the wall.

The light in the room turned a deep red. The green glow coming from Luthor's chest flickered and disappeared. "What-?" The canon started to swing back toward Tim again, but quickly slowed and stopped. "Why can't I _move?_ " Luthor shifted inside his armor, clearly struggling.

Tim crossed the room to stand in front of him. With one hand, he pushed the armor until it toppled backward. Luthor grunted as he crashed to the floor.

"I'm sure you can guess, Mr. Luthor," said Tim. He bent down, looking Luthor in the eye. "Kryptonians are basically normal humans when under a red sun. I theorized that Kryptonite would likewise behave like a normal rock under a red sun. It looks like I was right." He smiled viciously and put one foot on Luthor's chest. "The power source for your armor just became inert. Your armor is now a metal prison." His smile widened a notch, even as his eyes narrowed. "You've always believed Superman was your enemy, Lex Luthor, but you were wrong," he hissed. "*I* am your enemy."

Luthor's eyes flickered with hatred. "I see," he said. "And why, exactly, are you my enemy, Mr. Drake?"

Tim studied him for a long moment, then turned on his heel and crossed the room. Reaching behind his desk, he brought out something he'd been keeping there recently, just in case. Carefully, he opened and loaded Pa's shotgun, watching Luthor's face the entire time.

"You hurt my friend," he said finally, as he snapped the gun closed again and cocked it. "You hurt Superboy."

"And how do you know Superboy?" said Luthor blandly.

Tim smiled again. He walked slowly across the room and lifted the shotgun, pointing it at Luthor's head. "He's my friend," he said again. He put his finger on the trigger, siting down the barrel at Luthor's baleful face. "That's all you need to know."

"I _created_ Superboy, you understand," said Luthor conversationally. "I even saved his life."

"I know," said Tim. "You also controlled his mind and forced him to try and kill his friends. You also killed hundreds of people when you made them fall from the sky. You poisoned your _own sister_."

Luthor's eyebrows went up. "Impressive. How did you figure *that* one out?"

"Why *did* you poison her?"

Luthor grinned, shark-like. "Tell me how you know Superboy."

Tim scowled and shoved the gun further in his face. "You're hardly in a position to be bargaining, Luthor!"

"You seem to have guessed so much else about me, Mr. Drake. Don't you _know_ why I gave it to her?"

Tim shrugged without moving the gun. "I have a few theories. I thought she was probably your test case."

"She was," said Luthor thoughtfully, "But it was more than that. She was becoming too independent. Going out without me. She didn't need her big brother anymore. So...I made sure she still needed me. The first dose just made her weak, easily tired. She'd always been clumsy. I gave it to her after she'd fallen down the stairs one day, so everyone would think that was the cause." He frowned. "When I left her behind in Smallville, someone else stepped in to take care of her. A fool who married her, despite her weakness. He didn't last long."

"Did you kill him?"

Luthor laughed. "I didn't have to. After she had her daughter, I gave her another dose of the poison, making her more than just weak. She became a cripple, an invalid, and he didn't stay around long after that."

Tim's shoulders tensed. "She was your own sister!"

"I fail to see what difference that makes."

Tim took a deep breath and steadied himself. "When did you give her the third dose?"

Luthor's expression darkened. "When I was President, after I put the bounty on Superman's head, she called me. Somehow got through my gauntlet of telephone screeners and told me she needed to speak to me privately. And when I arranged it, she told me that it had to stop, that I had to cancel the bounty on Superman's head. She _threatened_ me. Said she would tell what she knew of how our father had died if I didn't. There is no statute of limitations on murder, she reminded me. So..." He shrugged as best he could inside the inert metal armor. "I made sure she couldn't hurt me. The third dose made her incoherent. Even if she tried to tell what she knew, no one would listen to her anyway. Everyone assumed that her disease was merely progressing, as I had known they would."

"Why didn't you just kill her?" asked Tim. "A fourth dose would have done it."

Luthor shrugged. "There was still a chance she might be of use to me some day. I might need a kidney transplant or a blood transfusion, for example. Once she was neutralized as a threat, there was no reason to kill her."

"But there's _every_ reason to kill you," said Tim. He braced himself.

"Tim!" Conner's voice made him freeze. Without shifting the gun, he looked up. Conner was standing at the hole Luthor had made in the wall, just outside of the effect of the red sunlamps.

"Co- Superboy. Stay there," said Tim.

"Like _hell_ ," said Conner, and stepped into the room. He stumbled slightly when the red light hit him, but recovered quickly. "What are you doing, Tim?"

"I'm just having a little chat with-"

"With your _father_ ," interrupted Luthor smoothly. "How are you, _son_?"

"With _Luthor_ ," glared Tim.

Conner looked from Tim's face to Luthor's. "Tim," he said. "Tim, put down the gun. Please."

Tim didn't waver. "He hurt you. I swore I'd never let him hurt you again. I made sure he was locked up, but _Braniac_ broke him out. And I realized I was going to have to stop him _permanently_."

Luthor's eyes darted between them avidly. "Oh, you *do* remind me of myself, Drake," he said.

"Shut up!" Tim's hands tightened on the gun, his finger sliding onto the trigger again.

"Tim, _don't_. Please don't!"

"Give me *one* good reason why I shouldn't!" Tim's eyes locked with Luthor's. "After all the things he's done!"

"Because it's what _he_ would do," said Conner softly.

Tim stilled, faltering for the first time. "I..." Luthor watched him, obviously amused. "He." Tim looked down at the gun in his hands, then at Conner, next to him, awash in red light. No longer looking at Luthor, slowly Tim lifted the gun and placed it in Conner's hands.

Conner's shoulders sagged with relief. "Thank you, Tim."

"And what happens," said Tim, "when he gets out again and hurts even more people?"

"He's not going to get out again," said another voice. Tim and Conner looked up. Batman was standing in the hole Luthor had made in Tim's wall. "The president has asked the Justice League to oversee Luthor's confinement *personally* this time." He crossed the room and used a small hand laser to cut through the chest of Luthor's armor. "Superboy, you may wish to step outside for a moment," he said.

Conner shook his head. "I'm staying with Tim," he said.

Batman shrugged and pulled a chunk of Kryptonite out of the armor. From somewhere he produced a lead box and placed the Kryptonite inside, then carefully closed and sealed the lid as Tim and Conner looked on. Conner didn't react when exposed to the rock, Tim was pleased to see. After all, the red lights were still on, rendering the Kryptonite inert, just as he'd theorized.

"Damn you," snarled Luthor.

Batman glanced at him impassively. "We have a special cell made up for you on the Watchtower," he said. "You won't be getting out again any time soon, not with Braniac's help or anyone else's." He turned to Tim. "Good work."

Tim gave him a nod. For a moment he almost regretted his decision not to become Robin. But only for a moment. "Thank you."

Batman nodded back. "Oracle," he said. "We're ready for teleport." A moment later, he and Luthor disappeared.

* * *

Kon looked around. "Dude, that's kind of amazing," he said.

Tim glanced up. "Hm?"

"Just, how fast they fixed this place up."

"Oh." Tim smiled and nodded to the wall. "It's not quite as impressive as it seems. After all, I had it _built_ only about a month ago. It wasn't difficult to call up the construction companies and tell them I'd need a little repair work done. Fortunately Luthor didn't come through a major support beam."

"What did you tell them happened?" asked Kon, admiring the wall. You couldn't even tell where Luthor had broken it. He had to use his X-ray vision to find the spot.

Tim shrugged. "I didn't. Anymore than I explained anything when I had them fix Lori's and Lena's house. Of course, when I had them repair the garden shed, I told them it had been struck by lightning." Kon turned to see him watching him narrowly and smiling his small smile.

Kon grinned back and crossed to where he was standing. He put his hands on Tim's waist and bent down to kiss him. Tim's smile widened against his mouth before he kissed back, his tongue darting out to trace over Kon's lower lip. After a moment he pulled back. "Let's go into the other room," he said.

Tim's 'office' - it was as much a lab as it was an office, really - filled about two-thirds of the basement. The other third was a room Tim called his 'anteroom' and Kon privately thought of as his man-cave. A flat-screen TV almost filled one wall, surrounded by speakers, stereo equipment, and gaming systems. Another wall was covered with bookshelves filled with books; mostly fun books, like mysteries and science fiction and the 'Wendy' graphic novels. A big, comfortable couch dominated the middle of the room.

"Why don't you open up the couch?" suggested Tim. Kon swallowed and nodded, touching the arm. He shifted the cushions off and unfolded it, all with his TTK, as Tim watched. Tim still loved it when he did things like that.

Once the bed was folded out, Kon straightened the sheets, smoothing them carefully, before looking up at Tim.

"Conner..." Tim hesitated, then continued. "Are you sure you want to do this without your powers?"

Kon swallowed again and nodded. He didn't like being without his powers. He _hated_ how weak it made him feel. But... "Yeah," he said. "I want to. I want to know what it's like for you. Want to feel what *you* feel." That wasn't the only reason. It wasn't even the main reason. But it was _one_ of the reasons.

"All right." Tim disappeared into his office, then reappeared a moment later with a few things in his hands. He tossed Kon what looked like a small remote. "That controls the lights," he said.

Kon nodded and, after a moment of examining it, pressed one of the buttons. The full-spectrum bulbs switched off, and at the same instant the red lamps came on, casting a deep, ruby glow through the room.

The sense of *weight* was immediate. Kon tried lifting off the ground and managed to rise about half a foot before gravity pulled him down again. He shivered.

"Conner." Tim smiled gently. He was sitting on the bed. "Come here?"

Kon nodded. He felt vulnerable. _Naked_.

Tim reached out and traced a finger over the symbol on Kon's chest. "Take it off?" he whispered.

"Yeah," said Kon. He tugged at his shirt, automatically trying to reach with his TTK to pull it over his head and getting tangled for a moment when his power didn't respond. Finally he yanked it off with a move that would have torn it if he'd been at full strength. The shirt stretched and popped off, but it didn't tear. It was kind of frightening how quickly he became powerless under the red lights.

At least Tim didn't laugh when he got tangled up. Kon could feel it, Tim's eyes never left him, exploring him almost more intimately than a touch. Until Tim reached out and *did* touch, his hands sliding over Kon's skin.

Kon loved the way Tim touched him. He was always so _intense_ , like Kon was the only other person in the world, or like it was the first time. He drew his hands down Kon's sides, tracing ticklishly over his abs and making Kon squirm. The touch firmed, and Tim leaned forward to trail kisses down his chest. Hot, sweet kisses that had Kon's eyes falling shut as they sent little jolts of pleasure through him.

"Tim," Kon whispered. He felt Tim's answering smile against his skin. It was a little different without the aura, more sensitive. More immediate, somehow.

"Hmmm," Tim hummed. He came to the waistband of Kon's jeans and his hands slipped down to unbutton and unzip them before tugging at them. Kon tried to help pull them off, and was once again brought up short by the absence of his TTK. "Lift up your hips," murmured Tim, so Kon did so, feeling the pull and slight burn across his stomach muscles. Tim pulled off the jeans - neither of them wore shoes in the house, so at least they didn't have to worry about that.

Now Kon felt _really_ naked. He shivered a little, the air hitting his skin feeling strangely cool. Tim was warm, though, after he'd quickly stripped off his own clothing and climbed back on top of Kon.

"Mmm," Tim hummed again. He kissed his way down one thigh and up the other, ignoring Kon's hardening cock. When he reached the hollow of Kon's hip, he did _something_ that sent a strong, sharp sensation coursing through Kon.

"What are you...what are you doing?" he gasped, writhing a little at the mingled pleasure and pain.

Tim lifted his head and blew on the spot, making Kon shiver again. "Giving you a hickey," he said matter-of-factly. "Did you like it? It seems like you did," he said, nodding to Kon's erection.

"Y-yeah," said Kon, then groaned as Tim dipped his head to give the same treatment to his other hip. "T-Tim," he gasped, feeling the barest edge of Tim's teeth against his skin. Usually they were a tease, but without his powers, they felt almost dangerous.

Finally Tim pulled back again, regarding his handy-work. "Close your eyes," he said softly.

Kon did as he was told. He couldn't hear Tim's heartbeat, but other sounds seemed loud, like the familiar click of a cap being flicked open. Kon's eyelids fluttered - it was dark, and he couldn't even use his X-ray vision to peek. The first unexpected kiss against the tip of his erection made him gasp and arch.

"T-Tim," he stammered. "Oh... _oh..._ "

Tim's hand wrapped around the base in a firm grip as he began to lick, then to suck, making small hums of pleasure. Kon couldn't hear them very well, and it was strange, being locked inside his own body, his own head, unable to hear the rushing of Tim's blood, his breath, and every little gasp and noise he made.

He missed them, but there was a thrill to it, too, to not quite *knowing* what was coming next.

Tim touched his ass, the latex glove and lube cool on his skin. Kon shuddered.

There, a small sound from Tim. Kon could _feel_ it more than hear it, and it made his hips jerk. Tim's other hand tightened slightly around the base of his erection. A light touch on his ass again, not quite as cold, this time. A teasing touch, and then _pressure_. There was a...a burn, and a stretch, and oh god, that felt _way_ too big to be Tim's finger. A hard suck on his cock nearly distracted him for a moment, but it *couldn't*, not really, because it was too uncomfortable. It actually hurt, Kon realized with a sense of...of violation. He tried to reach out with his TTK to try to ease it, but he _couldn't_.

Tim stilled and lifted his head, and now Kon didn't even have the pleasure to distract him. "Are you okay?" said Tim.

Kon bit his lip. He _wanted_ this, he did. He wanted it to feel good, like he *knew* it did for Tim. He wanted to be strong enough, he just had to push through the discomfort, had to keep going. He'd never been afraid that Tim would think he was _weak_ before. "I'm...I'm okay," he managed to gasp out.

"Conner..." Tim's voice was concerned. "Let's take a little break, okay? We can come back to this later."

"No! I can do it. I can do this," said Kon quickly. His erection was flagging fast. He bit his lip again, and was startled when he tasted blood.

"Shhh, it's all right." Tim laid a gentle hand on Kon's stomach. "Breathe for me, okay?" Conner nodded and breathed deeply, in and out. Tim slid his finger out of him. The sense of relief was immediate. Kon squeezed his eyes shut, ashamed and embarrassed. "It's all right," said Tim again. He shifted around. Suddenly Kon felt power pouring back into him. The ache in his ass and the pain in his lip faded, leaving him sheepish. What had he been so upset about, anyway?

"Sorry, Tim," said Kon. "I don't know why I couldn't..." The full-spectrum lights weren't as good as 'real' sunlight, but it didn't matter. They felt _good_. Kon opened his eyes and sighed as the energy soaked into him.

"Hey." Tim smiled at him. "I think we were trying a few too many things at once. Why don't we revisit the red sunlamps another day?"

"But. But I don't want to _hurt_ you," said Kon.

Tim stilled. "Is _that_ what this is about?" he said.

"I just, I've never done this before. What if I - I lost control or something-"

"Conner," said Tim firmly, "In all the time we've been together, have you ever _once_ lost control?"

"No, but-"

"Conner," Tim interrupted again. "You've fucked me lots of times. You've _come_ inside me. And you've never, ever even bruised me unintentionally."

"But-"

" _Kon-El_. Listen to me. Your control is instinctive. It's _built in_. I'm not sure you could hurt an innocent person if you _tried_ , let alone unintentionally. Think about it, Conner."

Kon closed his mouth and thought about it. And..."You're right," he said after a minute or two. "You're right," he said again, ruefully.

"Of course I am," said Tim, grinning at him. Then he added, more seriously, "I wouldn't put myself in a situation where I thought you might hurt me. I trust you, Conner."

"I...yeah. Okay." Kon's eyes stung. He blinked hard, trying to make the feeling go away.

Tim leaned forward from his perch between Kon's legs, bracing himself with his non-slippery hand on Kon's chest, and kissed him. Kon helped, holding him up with his TTK. He felt Tim's little start at the touch and heard the way it made his heart speed up, just a little.

Tim's tongue swept over his lips before pushing between them. The touch against his own tongue sent little shocks through him, tiny sparks of pleasure. Eventually Tim pulled back a little, gazing down into his eyes.

"What now?" he said, his voice husky and low. "Shall I give you a blow-job? Make you writhe until you can't stand it, until you fill my mouth with your come?"

"Ohgod." Kon bucked against him. "Yeah. _Fuck_ yes, Tim..." He was getting hard again, his cock springing back to life at Tim's words.

Tim leaned forward to whisper in his ear. Kon felt the brush of his breath as he spoke. "I love the way you taste, you know. Love the way you feel in my mouth. Love driving you _crazy-_ "

"You *do*! You make me so crazy. _Tim!_ "

"Good." Tim bit the lobe of his ear, sending a little burst of sensation through him. Kon jerked and moaned. He caught the edge of Tim's wicked smile before Tim ducked his head and moved back down Kon's body to take him into his mouth again.

"Fuck," Kon breathed. "You are so good at that, Tim." Tim hummed in pleasure. Kon knew he loved the praise from the way it made his heart beat a just a little harder. "You are amazing."

Tim sucked harder for that. Kon reached down and twined his fingers in Tim's hair. Tim's other hand, still slippery with the lube from earlier, slid down to tease him. He didn't press inside, just stroked at the sensitive hole, brushing over it with gentle fingers as he swallowed around Kon.

It felt good. The mouth on his dick felt _awesome_ , of course. But the little touches underneath, they felt good, too. Sort of...tingly. He shifted, wanting more.

"You can...um. You can try again," he whispered breathlessly. "With the, um. With my ass?"

There was a pause in Tim's movements. He lifted his head, ignoring Kon's sound of protest. "Are you sure? We can try again another time, Conner. Work our way up to it more."

"No, I'm sure," said Kon. He shifted again, hungry for more touches.

"If it becomes uncomfortable, promise me you'll tell me to stop," said Tim.

"I promise," said Kon.

"Really?"

"Yes, I promise. I _promise_ ," said Kon, rocking his hips up and down.

Tim took a breath and let it out. "All right," he said. "But I'm going to take my time. And if it's even a little uncomfortable, tell me to stop this time." He bent his head to take Kon in his mouth again, at the same time sliding his hand down to press, just the slightest bit, at Kon's hole. Kon made a small, hungry sound. Tim pulled off again and reached for something. There was the sound of a cap flipping open, the gooey sound of more lube being applied. Kon felt it against his ass, slippery and smooth and cool. Tim's fingers returned, working the lube onto him, around and around him, pressing a little more into him, and Kon felt himself trembling with anticipation.

"Yes," he said. "Yes, do it, Tim."

Tim didn't answer, except to press a little deeper, finger sliding in and out, in and out with a darting rhythm that was going to drive Kon crazy. He leaned down, bypassing Kon's erection to lick at his balls, sucking at them and toying with them as he pressed deeper.

"Yeah," moaned Kon. "That's - it feels good, Tim." This was what he'd wanted. This sense of fullness, of warmth, inside and out. The stretch increased, little by little.

"Relax, Conner," said Tim softly against his ball. "Relax and let me in." Kon nodded, closing his eyes and concentrating. "That's it," said Tim. Kon felt the stretch increase even more. "Am I hurting you?"

Kon shook his head vigorously. "No. No, it doesn't hurt. It feels...it feels amazing."

Tim took another deep breath and let it out. Kon heard it and _felt_ it on his balls, and suddenly he realized that Tim was turned-on, too, that Tim was hard and hungry and was holding himself back, driving _himself_ crazy even as he worked Kon into a frenzy.

"Tim," gasped Kon. "Don't _stop_."

"I won't," said Tim, his voice shaking. "I won't unless you need me to, Conner. _Conner_." He pushed in just a little harder, and something sparked inside of Kon, sensation rushing through him with a shock.

" _Fuck!_ " he shouted. "Tim! Fuck, holy hell, what-"

"Feels good, doesn't it?" Kon could hear the smirk in Tim's voice as he did it again, making Kon arch right up off the bed.

"Yes! Fuck, I want - I want you inside me, want you to fuck me. _Tim!_ "

Tim groaned and bit the tip of his erection, licked it, making Kon arch again. He gave it one last hard suck, then sat up, pulling his fingers out and peeling off the glove to toss it aside. There were more sounds, good sounds, but Kon was getting impatient.

"Come on," he gasped, his erection leaking precome. "Please, Tim!"

"Lift your legs," said Tim, and Kon complied, floating up the slightest bit to change the angle. "Good," said Tim. There was a momentary pressure, and then a slick slide, a heat, and Tim was _inside_. Kon could see his flushed face, intense with concentration.

" _Tim_ ," he whispered. " _Yes_."

Tim nodded and began to thrust, slow and controlled at first. It was so _much_ , so full and warm and thick and *good*. "Conner," he gasped. "So tight. S-so...ngh..." His eyes slipped closed as his thrusts speeded up and became more ragged.

Watching him, _feeling_ him, was like nothing else. Then he shifted again, just a little, and suddenly a surge of pleasure exploded through Kon, and again, and _again_ with every thrust of Tim's hips. Kon shouted and arched as Tim moved faster and faster, harder and harder, driving helplessly into him. "C-Conner, are you-"

" _Yes!_ " shouted Kon. "It's good, it's _so good_ , Tim, don't you d- _dare_ stop!"

"I won't, I c-can't- _ah!_ " Tim's head snapped back, his hips pistoning sharply. Kon yelled again as he hit that spot, that sweet, sweet spot, feeling his whole body tighten and shudder. He felt it rising until it spilled out, wave after wave shaking him, hot and strong and sweet. Tim's hands tightened on his hips, holding on hard enough to bruise, if Kon hadn't had his powers back. A slight sound came from Tim's throat, almost too quiet to hear over the rushing of his heart, and he jerked hard and came, shuddering. "C-Conner..."

Slowly, like a tree falling to the forest floor, Tim collapsed onto Kon's chest, panting. They lay like that for a long time, slowly, slowly getting their breaths back.

"That was..." Tim trailed off, pressing his face into Kon's neck. "That was just..." He trailed off again.

"Yeah," said Kon. After a moment, he added, "Thank you."

"For what?" murmured Tim.

"For...I dunno. For making sure I was all right, I guess," said Kon, still a little embarrassed.

"'s okay," said Tim with a yawn.

"We could...still try with the red sunlamps, sometime. If you wanted. I think, now that I know how it's supposed to work, it wouldn't be so...um."

Tim smiled. "If you like. I can think of other things I'd like to do under the lamps, too."

Kon's eyebrows went up at *that* tone in Tim's voice. "Oh? Like what?"

"Mmm. I'd love to tie you up. Give you hickeys all _over_ ," said Tim, his voice slow and warm. Kon's heart skipped a beat. "Maybe try spanking...not like you ever had anyone spank you as a kid, so I don't know how you'd take it, but it would be fun to try it out, maybe. If you wanted to. And then there's toys...maybe blindfold you as well as tying you up, have you at my mercy...drive you...crazy..." He yawned again and sighed. Kon could feel his body softening against him as he sank into sleep.

"You always do," he said, kissing Tim's temple and using his TTK to cover them both with the blanket they'd kicked off earlier during their love-making. "You always drive me crazy. And you always have me at your mercy, Tim. I love you."

"Love you...too..." sighed Tim, snuggling against him.

* * *

Tim pushed open the screen, his arms full of groceries. "Let me help you get that," said Pa, putting down his Sudoku puzzle and getting up. Tim opened his mouth to tell him to stay put, then closed it again. Pa was chafing enough at his enforced semi-retirement as it was; there was no need for Tim and Ma to baby him.

Tim had done his best to keep him engaged, but it was difficult for a man who'd spent his whole life doing physical labor on a regular basis to suddenly give it up. So Tim handed him the groceries to put away and crossed to the sink to wash up.

"So how goes the work on the miracle cure?" asked Pa.

"Really well," said Tim. "Really, really well. The early trials have been tremendously promising, even on the most advanced cases." He couldn't help smiling. "It's not as dramatic as it was in Lena's case, of course - Morisson's disease is chronic, not something that you can really make a 'cure' for. But now that we've re-tooled the antidote, we're seeing some real progress. We need to finish the tests and make sure there aren't any long-term side-effects. And people who have it will need to keep taking the medicine, once it's developed, probably for the rest of their lives. But we think it will allow them to live a normal life, nearly free of the symptoms of the disease, especially if doctors can catch it early enough. It should be inexpensive to mass-produce, too, once we can synthesize it."

"That's _fantastic_ , Tim!" Pa let the refrigerator swing closed and put his hand on Tim's shoulder. "I hope you know how proud Ma and I are of you."

Tim blinked and felt himself flushing. "I didn't really do anything," he mumbled, looking down. "Just took the work Luthor'd already done-"

"Son, not one person in a million coulda done what you did with what you had," said Pa. "You saved my life, and now you're saving other peoples' lives." He squeezed Tim's shoulder. "I'm proud to have you as a part of my family, Tim. As proud as I am of Clark, or Conner. Proud and _grateful_."

"Pa," said Tim softly. "You've done so much for _me_."

"And you saved my _life_ , Tim. I know I'm hard to live with when I'm forced to play the invalid, but I've got to confess, it's a hell of a lot better than being _dead_." He chuckled. "Don't tell Ma I said that, though."

Tim shook his head, smiling through the warmth in his chest and the sting in his eyes.

* * *

"How are the trials going?" said Conner, peering over Tim's shoulder.

"Wonderfully." Tim turned from the plants he'd been tending and smiled up at him. "You're home early."

Conner shrugged. "Half day today. Some Administrative Bullshit Day thing or something. I thought we might have a picnic? Ma said she'd make one for us." He handed Tim a stack of envelopes. "These came in the mail for you."

"Sounds good," said Tim. He took the envelopes and glanced at them. "Ah," he said, and slid one finger beneath the flap of the first one.

Conner looked at him curiously. "What are they?"

"If I'm not mistaken - " Tim pulled the papers out of the envelope and unfolded them. "- yes. My acceptance letter to the University of California, San Francisco. And this one," he waved the other envelope, "is probably an acceptance letter for Stanford. This one is Metropolis University, it looks like. This one is Kansas-"

Conner blinked. "Wha-?"

A grin danced on Tim's lips. He met Conner's eyes. "Didn't I tell you?"

"Uh, _no_ ," said Conner, sounding faintly disgruntled. Tim couldn't help but chuckle.

"I've decided to pursue a degree in Biomedical Studies," he said casually.

"Oh," said Conner blankly.

Tim felt his grin growing. "Why are you so surprised, Conner? Didn't think I could get into one of those excellent schools?"

"Didn't think- _What?_ No, of course not, dude! You could-" He stopped, because Tim was laughing at him. "You," he said, poking Tim in the arm, "can be a jerk sometimes, you know that?"

Tim wrapped one hand around his neck and tugged him down until he could bite Conner's ear. "Yeah, but you love it," he breathed, delighted when Conner shivered in response. He let go with another laugh and started to open the second envelope. "Working on the cure for Morisson's disease has been...well, it's been incredible." He glanced at the second letter and gave a nod, dropping it casually on his desk and starting to open the third one. "I want to do that on my own, without any help from Luthor's 'ghost of computer cards past'. I want to help people." _Ordinary people...and extraordinary people like you,_ he thought. He'd already written to Doctor Midnight about a potential apprenticeship after he'd finished his degree, but he'd wait until he got a reply to tell Conner or Ma or Pa about it, he decided. Instead he went on, "I want to help people who are hurt or sick, or...or broken. I want to be able to fix them."

"Yeah?" said Conner. He sounded impressed. "You know, this is why I love you," he said, stealing another kiss. "Because you are awesome."

"No," said Tim, responding to the brief touch by chasing and deepening it. When he pulled away he said, "You love me because I'm _great_ in bed."

Conner laughed. "Also true," he admitted, "but the two aren't mutually exclusive, right?"

"I suppose not," admitted Tim. He darted in for one more kiss - one more after that - then pulled away, panting a little. "Come on," he said. "Let's get that picnic lunch."

"Aw," said Conner. "Don't we have time for a quickie?"

Tim grinned and bopped him on the nose. "See? I knew you loved me for my sexual prowess."

"Well, not _just_ that," said Conner with a grin as he followed Tim up the stairs and into the afternoon sunshine. A 'woof' was the only warning he got before Krypto barreled into him, snuffling him happily. "Hey, boy! You wanna play?"

"Woof!" Krypto flew off and returned moments later, a bowling ball in his mouth. Conner took it and flung it into the distance. Krypto took off after it ecstatically.

"Hopefully that doesn't go through someone's windshield," Tim said, his voice dry.

"Nah, I threw it toward the meteor crater," said Conner. "It's okay. And Krypto's awfully good about catching it before it hits the-" Krypto zoomed up to him and dropped the bowling ball into his hand, "-ground. Good boy." He flung the ball again. As it disappeared over the horizon, he said, "So, when are you going away to school?"

"Not yet," said Tim slowly. "I just applied at those places to see if I could get in, and to keep my options open. I've already got some credits under my belt, thanks to the A.P. tests I took in high school." Conner nodded. Tim had made him take those tests, too, but he didn't know if he'd passed any of them, yet. "And I got some credit for interning at LuthorCorp, too, despite everything that happened afterward. So I don't have too much to do, but there are still some lower division courses which, sadly, can't be avoided." He paused and said, "What do _you_ plan to do after you graduate, Conner?"

Conner blinked and put one hand behind his neck. "I hadn't really gotten that far. I didn't apply to any colleges...I guess I assumed I would just be a full time superhero, like Superman."

"He's not a full time superhero, though," said Tim gently. "He's a reporter, remember?"

"Yeah," said Conner, looking embarrassed. "That wasn't what I meant. I-"

"It's okay," said Tim. "I know." He watched as Conner accepted the bowling ball from Krypto and tossed it again as easily as if it had been a golf ball. "I'm going to spend a year or two going to Smallville Community College," he said. "It's actually a surprisingly highly-rated school, you know, and I can get those lower-division requirements satisfied just as well here as I can anywhere else. And once they're done, I can transfer."

"Transfer where?" asked Conner.

Tim smiled a little. "That depends in part on you, honestly. If you decide to go away to college, I'll go with you, or to the nearest school that has a decent bio-med program. Maybe you'll decide to live at the Tower full-time, or reverse your schedule so you're there on weekdays and here on weekends. If you do that, I'll go to Stanford or Berkeley, maybe, and hitch a ride back with you on Saturdays."

Conner frowned. "I don't want you to sacrifice your education for me," he said.

"Not at all," said Tim firmly. "I fully intend to go to a school with a good program, no matter where you end up. But...I'm not going to have a long-distance relationship with you, Conner. Not after losing you for a year. As long as you'll have me, I'm going to stay with you."

"As long as you'll have me? Dude, you know I'm never gonna give you up." He chuckled and started singing, grabbing Tim around the waist to grind against him. " _Never gonna let you down, never gonna run around-_ "

Tim shut him up with a kiss, laughing against his lips. "You are such a pain," he said fondly.

"Yeah, but you love it," said Conner, echoing back his earlier words.

"Yeah, I _do_ ," said Tim.

Conner let him down, grabbing his ass along the way. "You know, if we're gonna be together all the time anyway," said Conner casually, "maybe we should get married."

Tim's breath caught in his chest. "Conner, d-don't joke about that," he said when he could breathe again.

"I'm not joking!" Conner sounded offended. "I _wouldn't_ joke about that-" He frowned. "I messed that up, didn't I? I should have gotten a ring and gone down on one knee and stuff."

"No," said Tim quickly. He started to laugh helplessly. "No, it was perfect. First you Rickrolled me, then you proposed to me. I can't wait to try to explain that to Ma and Pa."

Conner laughed, too, nervously. "Um...does that mean 'yes'?" he said after a moment.

"Yes! Yes, Conner." Tim put his hands on Conner's shoulders. "I love you, and I will totally marry you," he said, leaning up for another kiss.

"Good," said Conner. They were interrupted a minute later when Krypto pushed against Conner's hand, whining.

"Damn dog," muttered Tim, but he was grinning. "Oh well, we should get going anyway. At this rate it'll be dark by the time we get to the picnic spot."

"Nah, the days are starting to get longer again," said Conner, throwing the bowling ball for Krypto one last time before wrapping an arm around Tim's waist and flying them both toward the farmhouse, staying close to the ground and out of sight of the road.

"Yeah," said Tim. He closed his eyes, feeling the warm sun and the breeze on his face as they flew. He could smell the perennials coming back from their winter sleep, not in bloom yet, but about to be. The birds, too, were returning from their winter homes. The days were warming and lengthening, each day longer, sweeter than the last. "Yes," he said again, his arms tightening around his love, his voice soft. "Spring is coming."

~ _fin~_

_Neither be cynical about love;_  
_for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment_  
_it is as perennial as the grass._

_"Desiderata", by Max Ehrmann, 1926_

[](http://improvinspi.livejournal.com/9384.html)   
_"Rickrolled" by[improvinspi](http://improvinspi.livejournal.com/7886.html). Please do not re-post without the artist's permission._  


~~~


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